


Softer, Softest

by skywarrior108



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Girl Penis, Intersex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywarrior108/pseuds/skywarrior108
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All her life, Quinn has struggled to accept herself. g!p</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in late 2012 and published in December 2012.
> 
> Acknowledgments: Many thanks to poetzproblem for beta reading this fic and giving me amazing suggestions and feedback. She is awesomesauce. :) Also thanks to justtripping for being a source of knowledge and angelffxmaniac for her encouragement.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not an accurate depiction of intersex conditions. While I did do some research on them before writing this, I definitely took liberties in regards to what's medically accurate/possible. I mean no offense. I wanted to try my hand at girl!peen without reducing it to a kink, and get into more of the emotional aspects of it.

Quinn is twelve going on thirteen when it first happens.

She's laying in bed, in that space between sleep and wakefulness when she becomes aware of it—she's… _hard_ and her underwear is wet. Her stomach drops and she sits up, suddenly very much awake.

Shame and panic instantly bubble up inside her—her back nearly aching in recollection of what happened the last time she had an accident.

With shaky hands, she pulls off her blanket and looks down at her lap. It's with some relief that she realizes that her sheets are fine. But she still made a mess of her pajamas. She's not sure what's worse—that or the fact that her… _thing_ … is hard and straining uncomfortably in the confines of her wet underwear.

She climbs out of bed and hastily makes her way to the bathroom at the end of the hall—making sure the coast is clear of her parents, and thankful that Frannie is already at school for her morning Cheerios practice.

Closing the door behind her, she pulls down her pajama bottoms and underwear. She stares in confusion at the sticky, white substance she sees there and frowns at her still hard penis, which is also covered in said substance. Her body has been changing a lot lately—her breasts have developed enough where she needs a training bra, her hips are becoming more shapely, and her penis has grown in size. But it's never done _this_ before, and she doesn't know what to do to make it go back to normal.

Biting her lower lip, she quickly cleans herself off with baby wipes she finds in the cabinet under the sink. She notices that she's more sensitive than ever to stimulation, but she's too nervous to actually enjoy it. She tosses the wipes in the garbage and stares down at herself. It's so much bigger than it usually is, and it's so hard it hurts a little. _Please, please go back to normal_ , she pleads silently.

Quinn lets out a frustrated sigh at her body's noncompliance and wraps a towel around her waist. More pressing than the situation between her legs is the current state of her clothes. She doesn't want to get in trouble for making a mess of them.

Her mother finds her furiously scrubbing her pajama bottoms in the bathroom sink—eyes bleary from too much drink the night before. "Did you have an accident?" she asks, her voice thick with sleep and confusion and a hint of worry.

Quinn's cheeks flush as she shakes her head, silently cursing herself for forgetting to lock the door as she shuts off the faucet and turns to face her mother.

"Then what are you doing?" she asks.

"I…" Quinn swallows. "My pants were wet when I woke up, but not from…" She falters, not knowing how to explain the sticky wetness she found.

A grimace passes over her mother's face, and Quinn feels her shame grow as she averts her eyes—staring at the tile of the bathroom floor.

"I see," her mother finally says, her voice tight. "We'll have to make sure to mention this to Dr. Jalen during your next visit."

Quinn shifts uncomfortably but doesn't say anything further. She has so many questions, but she's too afraid to utter a single one of them. The only thing she can hope is that her doctor will somehow shed light onto this situation without her having to actually explain anything about what's happening below her waist.

* * *

Quinn overhears her parents fighting in the living room that evening while she's preparing a snack in the kitchen.

"Russell, please, just talk to her about this," her mother pleads.

"How dare you ask me to do that," he growls, slamming down his now-empty glass of scotch on a side table—causing Quinn to flinch and a feeling of dread to settle in her stomach. "She shouldn't even be going through this. She should have gotten the damn surgery when she was born!"

"You know why she couldn't—it was too risky. It would have caused more complications."

"Like this hasn't been complicated enough," her father argues. "She's a girl with a dick, Judy. That's _not_ normal."

Quinn tries to fight back the tears that threaten to fall but fails. Her father's words cut deeply into a wound that has existed for so long, Quinn thinks it will never heal.

Her plate of sliced apples and peanut butter sits abandoned on the kitchen counter as she flees upstairs to her bedroom.

She stares at her lap with blurry eyes, wondering for the millionth time why she was born this way. She knows _how_ —enzyme deficiencies and imbalanced hormones and all those things Dr. Jalen has explained to her—but the _why_ is still a mystery.

Why did God make her like this? And why does her family resent her for it?

* * *

Quinn sits in the passenger seat of her mother's white Lexus—her fingers playing with the hem of her pink dress as she stares out the window at the passing cars on Route 33. The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rhiannon" filter through the speakers, breaking up what would otherwise be an uncomfortably silent drive to Columbus.

Quinn looks forward to the day when she can make these monthly trips by herself, although, of course, she wishes she didn't have to make them at all. But Dr. Jalen insists on seeing her regularly to ensure that nothing with her health or development is amiss—and after what happened a few years ago and what is happening to her body now, she knows that it's for the best, even if it usually leaves her feeling horrible about herself.

Her parents purposefully chose a DSD specialist in Columbus so that the likelihood of running into anyone from Lima is slim-to-none, but it's not so far that Dr. Jalen couldn't be called upon in an emergency. Quinn has been seeing him for as long as she can remember, and while she likes him well enough, her visits with him are among her unhappiest childhood memories.

When she was younger, her mother, father, and sister would make the monthly trip to Columbus with her. Her father would begrudgingly drive them there, and Quinn would sit on pins and needles the entire way, not wanting to inadvertently further upset him or her sister. Frannie would stomp her foot and throw a little fit about having to go with them, but their father would smile at her—his pale blue eyes crinkling with affection—and promise to take her someplace special.

And when he would drop Quinn and her mother off at the doctor's office and take Frannie out for lunch—just the two of them—she felt the sting of his rejection acutely. Quinn ached to have that experience with her father, but he has always treated her differently from Frannie, and Quinn knows it has everything to do with her condition.

Her father and Frannie no longer accompany Quinn to Columbus, only her mother does. Quinn has mixed feelings about it. On one hand, she is relieved that she doesn't have to deal with her father's sour moods and her sister's bitchiness, but, on the other hand, their lack of support hurts. Knowing that the two of them are off at a baseball game today—something Quinn has never been invited to—makes it hurt even more than usual.

The waiting room is empty when they arrive, and Quinn feels a small measure of relief at the sight. Even though anyone she might see here would be a total stranger, the fact that she's there means that they'll know _something_ is wrong with her. Her mother avoids conversation by flipping through the latest issue of _People_ magazine, and Quinn does the same by reading _Prince Caspian_.

Fortunately, they don't have to wait long until they're ushered into an examining room by one of the nurses, who quickly checks Quinn's weight and blood pressure. Quinn then hops up onto the examination table—her usual seat—and swings her legs back and forth in nervous anticipation. Her mother sits on one of the two chairs along the far wall, settling her purse over her legs.

"Quinn, Mrs. Fabray, it's good to see you again," Dr. Jalen greets them with a warm smile.

They both offer him a response in kind.

"So how is everything?" he asks, settling down on the stool next to the desk. "Any changes I should know about?"

Quinn's teeth worry her lower lip as she tries to think of the least embarrassing way to explain her situation.

"Actually, yes," her mother finally says, voice tight and visibly uncomfortable. "Two weeks ago, Quinn woke up with an… erection. And… there was…"

Quinn flushes violently. Her mother's obvious discomfort and shame over her condition makes these visits ten times more unbearable.

"A nocturnal emission?" Dr. Jalen supplies.

Her mother nods stiffly, and Quinn stares at the chart on the wall that outlines the Prader Scale.

"Quinn?" he asks, forcing her to turn her attention back to the conversation at hand. "Was that the only time this has happened?"

She shakes her head. "Every morning since then, I wake up with… an erection. But I haven't had another, um, emission?"

He opens his mouth to say something but is promptly cut off.

"I don't understand why this is happening," her mother cuts in, sounding a little distressed. "Quinn doesn't have testes, so why is… why is her penis growing, and why is she having erections and wet dreams?!"

"Like I told you years ago, Mrs. Fabray, I wouldn't be able to tell exactly what would happen in regards to Quinn's sexual development until she hit puberty, which is what she is undergoing now," Dr. Jalen explains to her mother. "But I did warn you that something like this could happen. The ovaries naturally produce both estrogen and testosterone, and the latter is most likely causing her genitals to get larger. She's experiencing nocturnal emissions, so that means her seminal glands are functioning on some level. As usual, we'll have to run some blood work and check her hormone levels—make sure her ovaries aren't producing too much testosterone and that her adrenal glands are still producing the right balance of cortisol, aldosterone, and androgen." He looks at Quinn then. "How have you been feeling? Any problems with nausea, upset stomach?"

Her stomach is often tied up in knots, but she knows that's not what he's asking. "No, I've felt okay."

Dr. Jalen nods before leading her to another room where a technician does an ultrasound of her lower abdomen. The gel is cold on her skin, and Quinn wonders if she'll ever get used to it.

She looks at the ultrasound images on the screen beside the examination table. On the inside, she is mostly a girl. She has ovaries, fallopian tubes, a uterus, and a vagina. But something went wrong while she was in utero—her adrenal glands produced too much androgen, and as a result, her genitals masculinized. So instead of a clitoris, she has a penis. Instead of labia, she has a scrotum. And there are other things that shouldn't be there—seminal glands and spermatic ducts. Her condition is especially unusual for that reason.

It's still all very confusing to Quinn, but she doesn't like to think about it too much. It makes her feel badly about herself.

Trying to shake her head of those thoughts, she goes into another room, where the nurse from earlier takes a blood sample. She barely feels the prick of the needle anymore.

Once that's done, she then heads back to the examination room where she walks in on her mother in mid-discussion with Dr. Jalen.

"Can't you somehow block the testosterone?"

"That's not a good idea. The female body needs _some_ testosterone for growth. Her bones and muscles require it."

Her mother sighs. "If she's going to keep growing down there, it's not going to be as easy to hide her condition as it was when she was little."

"Well, there are ways," he begins, glancing at Quinn as she takes a seat. She tries to ignore the uneasy feeling this conversation is giving her.

"Surgery?" her mother interrupts, and Quinn doesn't miss the hopeful note in her voice.

He shakes his head. "It isn't a good idea. I won't even consider it until after Quinn finishes going through puberty. And then it will have to be her choice," he explains before turning his attention onto Quinn. "As with any surgery there are risks involved. And by that time, it would be purely for cosmetic purposes. There's no _medical_ need for it. And in your case, it could actually create more problems."

Quinn wants to ask him what kind of problems, but the question gets stuck in her throat. She can never seem to muster up the courage to ask him anything about her condition—especially not with her mother sitting right next to her.

"What about… tucking and taping?" her mother asks after a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

Quinn looks at her, her brow furrowing in confusion, not knowing what tucking and taping even is.

"I would highly encourage Quinn _not_ to do that," he replies, causing Quinn to turn her attention back to him. "There's a risk of damaging the genitals, and considering the surgery Quinn had to undergo a few years back to fix her urethra, it's extra risky."

"Then how is she supposed to continue hiding this… this abnormality?" her mother asks in frustration.

Quinn's cheeks flush hot with shame, and she wishes she would just disappear.

"Mrs. Fabray, I've told you it's not-"

"Yes, it is," she interrupts. " _Girls_ are not supposed to have a _penis_ , and yet, my daughter does. That's abnormal. And if people find out about it, they will destroy her."

Dr. Jalen sighs but doesn't argue. Quinn knows it's because there is no argument. It's the truth. But the fact that her mother basically repeats her father's words verbatim makes them cut a little deeper.

"There is something," he finally says, making a point to look at both Quinn and her mother. "Compression shorts will prevent a noticeable bulge while ensuring proper blood flow. You can get them at any sporting goods store."

"Well, I suppose that's better than nothing," she relents, sounding a little defeated. "We'll stop and get some on the way home, Quinn."

"Okay," Quinn replies in quiet voice, smoothing down the front of her dress and trying not to betray the shame she's feeling from this entire ordeal.

"Mrs. Fabray, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Quinn alone for a few minutes," Dr. Jalen says.

A look of relief passes over her mother's face. "That's fine. Unless there's anything else you need me for, I'll be in the waiting room."

"Nothing else, Mrs. Fabray. I'll call you in a few days when Quinn's blood work results come back and let you know what they are."

She nods stiffly and makes her way from the room.

Quinn bites her lower lip nervously and looks at Dr. Jalen questioningly.

He smiles sympathetically at her. "I imagine things are pretty confusing for you right now," he says.

All she can do is nod.

"There's nothing _wrong_ with you, Quinn. Your body was just made a little different. But puberty can be a confusing time for almost everyone, so don't feel badly about that or anything that's happening to your body."

"I'll try," she says.

"And just so you know, the erections and nocturnal emissions you're experiencing? Perfectly normal, considering your condition. And the easiest way to get rid of the erections you experience in the mornings is to go to the bathroom."

She flushes slightly and nods. "I figured that part out," she manages to get out.

He smiles again, and it puts her somewhat at ease. "I'm going to give you some things to read about what you can probably expect to happen as your body continues to develop," he says, handing her a small binder. She takes it from him and flips through it. "Your situation is unique, so I wrote this up for you myself, based on what I have gathered from having you as my patient. If you have questions, you can ask during our next visit or even call if you need to."

She looks back up at him and offers him a small smile. "Thanks, Dr. Jalen."

"It's no problem," he replies. "Do you have any questions before you go?"

So many. But they all seem to die on her tongue.

* * *

The worst part about summer is the fact that Quinn can't go swimming. Her family has a beautiful pool in the backyard, but she's never been allowed to use it—in case the neighbors see something they shouldn't. Quinn once wondered out loud why she couldn't wear trunks on her lower half like her father does, but he scathingly informed her that she was being stupid.

"It's not _normal_ for girls to wear boys' swim trunks. I don't want you doing anything that might make someone suspect there's something _not right_ about you."

She waited until she was alone to cry—because crying in front of her father just made him angrier—but she knew he was right, so that was the end of that.

Instead, she spends her free time at the library or up in her room reading—losing herself in imaginary worlds and forgetting all the things about herself that are wrong.

But there are days when she hears her sister splashing around in the pool with her friends—laughing and yelling with delight—that Quinn wishes she had that. She doesn't have many friends, and the ones that she has are superficial and casual. They really only see each other at school, and after turning down a few invitations to go swimming in Sugar Motta's pool, the invites stop coming.

It hurts a little, but Quinn knows it's for the best. Judging by how her sister and father treat her, she can only imagine what would happen if other people found out the truth. Like her mother said, they would destroy her.

She thinks about the girls she spends time with at school—Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, and Sugar—and imagines what would happen if they ever knew the truth. She thinks about the scathing remarks they make to Tina Cohen-Chang just because the girl dresses a little differently or to Lauren Zizes because she's overweight and wears glasses.

If they knew that Quinn had a penis, it would lead to total ostracization at best and relentless bullying at worst.

Needless to say, Quinn, more than anyone else in her family, wants to keep her condition hidden. So she keeps her distance from them throughout the summer—instead, working to maintain a superficial relationship with them—only taking occasional trips to the mall and the movie theater. It's better to have girls like that on her side rather than against her.

But sometimes, she wonders what it would be like to have someone who would know about what she keeps hidden and still love her—would still look at her like they would any other girl.

* * *

Quinn stares at her reflection in the full-length mirror on her closet door, inspecting every inch of her body from head to toe. It's the first day of eighth grade, and she needs to make a good impression.

Her long, blonde hair is pulled back from her face with a white headband. There's a touch of eyeliner and mascara around her eyes, and her lips shine with the raspberry-flavored lip gloss she bought last week while at the mall with Brittany.

The dress she's wearing is her favorite—a pale-blue, knee-length sundress that her mother bought for her last month. She smiles a little. She can honestly say she looks pretty.

"Congratulations, Quinnie," Frannie sneers, stepping into Quinn's room and looking her over with a critical eye, causing Quinn to immediately tense up. "You could almost pass for a girl."

"I _am_ a girl," Quinn retorts, feeling herself tremble with anger. She hates when Frannie does this.

Her sister laughs. "Of course you are. Well, at least most of you is. Except for the most important part of all."

"Shut up," she grits out, her fists clenching at her sides.

"I'm just telling the truth, you know. You can pretend as much as you want that you're just like every other girl, but you're not. You're a freak—a girl with a dick. No one's ever going to want you. Hell, Daddy can barely even stand to look at you."

Blood rushes in her ears, and Quinn sees red. She wants nothing more than to make her sister hurt like she does, and it takes all of her self control not to lunge at Frannie. "Get out!" Quinn shouts instead, angry tears stinging her eyes.

Frannie smirks and laughs, her red Cheerios skirt swishing as she leaves.

Quinn's body thrums with helpless anger as she glares at her reflection once more, her eyes immediately locking onto the place between her legs. The compression shorts prevent anything from showing that shouldn't, but that doesn't change fact that something is there that isn't supposed to be there.

Her hands are still clenched at her sides, and she has the overwhelming urge to hit something. Frannie can be so awful sometimes. But the worst part is, she's right. No one is ever going to want her.

* * *

"Cutest boys in school, go," Santana says to Brittany—the two of them seated in the booth across from Quinn at Breadstix.

"Mike Chang," Brittany replies with a dreamy smile.

"Bobby Surette," Sugar adds from her seat next to Quinn.

Quinn takes a breadstick from the basket at the center of the table, and bites into it, knowing that she needs to think of someone, and fast. She doesn't know how to explain it, but there's something different—excited almost—in the way that they talk about boys that she just doesn't understand at all. Honestly, it makes Quinn a little uncomfortable, but she decides to play along.

"Josh Coleman is really cute too," Brittany says, staring off into space a little.

"He's kind of a jerk though," Sugar says with a frown.

"Agreed," Santana says, before turning to look at Quinn. "Who's your pick, Quinn?"

Santana, Brittany, and Sugar look at Quinn expectantly then. She finishes chewing and swallows before finally settling on her answer. "Finn Hudson."

That earns her a nod of approval from the other girls, and Quinn feels a small measure of relief.

"They're all cute," Santana says then, her lips curving up into a mischievous smile, "but Noah Puckerman is getting my pick."

Brittany nudges Santana's arm a little then. "Are you going to tell Sugar and Quinn what you two did last week?"

"What did you do?" Quinn asks, her uneasiness giving way to curiosity.

"Puck and I made out in the shelter house at Robb Park," she replies with an excited glint in her eyes.

"Wow," Sugar says, eyes widening a bit. "Is he a good kisser?"

"Pretty good, yeah," Santana replies as she reaches for a breadstick of her own—that look of satisfaction never leaving her face.

Sugar squeals excitedly and then starts going on about how she would like to do the same thing with Bobby.

Quinn takes another bite of her breadstick, wishing that they would talk about something else. The fact that she doesn't look at boys the same way her friends and other girls in her class do is starting to worry her a little, and she can't help but wonder if the reason she doesn't has something to do with her condition.

* * *

People at school tell Quinn she's pretty. Boys are starting to notice her in _that_ way.

Finn asks Quinn to the Winter Dance, and while she honestly thinks he's kind of dumb and wears way too much Axe, she immediately accepts. He's one of the most popular boys at Lima North Middle School, and she knows a lot of girls are crushing on him. All she has ever wanted is to feel like a normal girl, and she thinks going to the dance with Finn might be a chance to do that.

But her sister's words haunt her. What's between her legs is none of Finn's business, but she suspects that if he knew the truth, he would be disgusted and start bullying her like he does Dave Karofsky.

Her body has been changing even more since school started—Dr. Jalen says she's now at level 4 on the Tanner Scale—and she's glad to have the compression shorts. They're not the most comfortable thing in the world, but they make her feel better about keeping her abnormal anatomy safely hidden.

Her mother is both pleased and apprehensive about the fact that Quinn has a date to the dance.

"Now, Quinn, I know you're only thirteen, but I remember what boys were like at your age," she says as she zips up the back of her dress, and Quinn can smell the slightly unpleasant tang of gin on her mother's breath. "Turn around so I can look at you," she interrupts herself, and Quinn does as she says. She doesn't miss how those blue eyes dart down between her legs before taking in the rest of her, immediately making her feel self conscious. Her mother nods a little in approval. "Make sure Finn keep his hands to himself," she stresses.

"Yes, Mom," Quinn mumbles, her cheeks flushing a bit. She has no intentions of letting Finn do _anything_ like that.

The doorbell rings downstairs, thankfully ending their awkward conversation.

"That's probably Finn," Quinn says.

Her mother nods. "Have a good time, Quinnie!" she calls after her retreating form. "And remember what I said!"

As she heads towards the front door, Quinn catches sight of her father in the den, sitting in his favorite leather chair, glass of scotch in hand as he watches the evening news. He doesn't even bother to spare a glance in her direction.

She knew he wouldn't—he never does unless it's to yell at her for something—but it still hurts.

Finn's mom drives them to school, and Finn sits with Quinn in the backseat. Mrs. Hudson is all smiles and seems much less uptight than her own mother as she asks Quinn a few basic questions about herself before popping in a Journey CD.

Quinn is content to stare out the window while Finn fidgets a little in his seat, drumming along with the music on the tops of his thighs. About halfway through the drive, he reaches over and clumsily clasps his hand with hers, taking Quinn a little by surprise. His hand is warm and sweaty against her palm, and her first reaction is to pull away.

Nothing about Finn physically appeals to her in the slightest, but she doesn't let go of his hand. She knows that dozens of other girls would kill to be in her position right now. And it does feel nice to know that someone likes her enough to even want to hold her hand, even if the feeling isn't mutual.

Finn stays close to her most of the night, but he doesn't really do much more than hold her hand, which is a relief. She's noticed the way Puck tries to dance with Santana—his hands wandering up and down her body, and his hips thrusting against her backside. She's grateful that Finn is a terrible dancer and doesn't want to make a fool of himself, so when Quinn feels like dancing, it gives her an easy escape from her date.

"So, you and Finn?" Brittany says, an excited glint in her eye as they move to beat of "Beautiful Liar." "Is he your boyfriend now?"

Quinn looks at Brittany in surprise. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind that Finn might want that. Although, Frannie wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend until high school, so she at least has that excuse. She tries not think about what she'll actually do come high school. That is, assuming anyone would want her to be their girlfriend. A million unwanted thoughts begin to race through her mind—having to explain her condition, the disgust that would inevitably come, the ridicule, the shame. "No," she says a little too forcefully—trying to stop that line of thought. "Finn's just my date for the dance."

"Oh," Brittany says plainly, and Quinn honestly has no idea what Brittany is thinking, but she thankfully doesn't say anything more about it.

As the dance nears its end, Finn asks her to join him in the hallway just outside the gymnasium.

"What is it, Finn?" she asks, leaning back against a locker and looking up at him, wondering if he's going to ask her to be his girlfriend—rejection already on the tip of her tongue.

He runs a hand through his hair nervously, and he looks like he's trying to gather his courage as he steps closer to her. "There's something I've been wanting to do all night."

The scent of Axe and sweat is almost overwhelming to the point of nausea, and then suddenly, he's kissing her, catching Quinn completely off guard. It's inelegant and sloppy and feels almost like he's trying to eat her face. Quinn cringes and tries not to rip her mouth away as his lips move wetly against hers.

When he finally pulls back, he has a dopy, half-smile on his face, and he looks so pleased with himself. She barely suppresses a grimace as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Quinn never really thought about what her first kiss would be like, but she can honestly say this isn't an experience she would like to repeat. If this is what she has to put up with in order to have a boyfriend, she thinks she'd rather not bother at all.

She doesn't know whether to feel relief or worry over that realization, and tries not to think about what it could all mean.

* * *

Thankfully, Finn doesn't ask her out. He seems to be content with what happened at the dance and isn't looking for anything more, which is a huge relief to Quinn.

Still, she wonders what it is that girls see in Finn. She recalls how much she disliked kissing him and being physically close to him in general, and part of her thinks that maybe he's just not her type or something along those lines.

But when she thinks about the other boys that her friends are crushing on, she doesn't understand the attraction. She tries to imagine being close to them—tries to imagine kissing Puck the way Santana seems to enjoy doing, tries to imagine holding Mike's hand the way Brittany does, tries to imagine flirting with Bobby the way Sugar does—but it doesn't feel right.

Her body already makes her feel different, and her lack of attraction to boys makes her feel even more uncertain about things.

* * *

Things take an unexpected turn when Quinn wakes up one February morning—her underwear soaked with semen and a pleasured gasp escaping her lips.

Nocturnal emissions are rare for Quinn, but this one is different from the few she's had before. Her dream was so vivid, and there was no mistaking what she was doing in it. She was with another girl—naked and writhing on top of her—doing things she had never thought of before in her conscious state.

Quinn covers her face with her palms, unsure of what to think.

Even though she hasn't really felt any attraction to a boy yet, isn't she supposed to be dreaming of being with one?

She kicks off her sheets in frustration and goes to the bathroom to cleanup, this time making sure to lock the door behind her.

Things are confusing enough trying to feel comfortable with all the physical changes happening to her body, but this—having a wet dream involving another girl—wasn't something she could have anticipated. It isn't like there are any girls in school that she thinks about in _that_ way. Dream girl isn't anyone she knows—just a figment of her unconscious mind.

As she finishes cleaning away the last of the white stickiness from her skin, she decides it doesn't matter if she prefers boys or girls. It's not like she could ever really be with someone. Not the way she was in her dream. _I'm too defective_ , she thinks, staring down at her now soft penis. She mashes her lips together and closes her eyes. _I'm better off alone._

* * *

As the school year nears its end, Santana and Brittany talk about joining the Cheerios once they reach McKinley High.

"You're joining too, right, Quinn?" Brittany asks while they eat their lunch.

"I don't think so," Quinn replies, pushing the mystery meat from the cafeteria around on her plate, trying to feign disinterest in the conversation.

"Why not? You're a great dancer," Brittany asks. "And we're going to look smoking hot in that uniform."

Quinn shrugs. Truthfully, she hates the Cheerios uniform. It reminds her of her sister—of cruel taunts and a lack of acceptance. But most of all, she hates it because there's no way she can hide her secret if she wears it.

Santana looks at her like she's crazy. "Quinn, the Cheerios rule McKinley," she says. "National championships every year, all kinds of free swag from sponsors, and the hottest guys in school chasing after us."

"I just don't feel like living in my sister's shadow," she says, opting to give them part of her reasoning, and it's probably the most honest thing she's ever said to them.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Please. She's graduating this year, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she is," she confirms. That day can't come soon enough in Quinn's opinion.

"So what's the problem?"

"I just don't want to join, okay?" she bites back.

"Whatever. It's your funeral," Santana retorts, getting up from her seat and tossing the remains of her lunch into the garbage.

Brittany casts a mournful look in Quinn's direction before getting up to follow Santana out of the cafeteria, leaving Quinn all alone at the lunch table.

Quinn frowns, unsuccessfully trying to stop the hurt that threatens to seep in. Already, she can see how things will probably go with their friendship after they graduate from Lima North.

* * *

Middle school ends better than Quinn could have hoped.

Flipping through the 2008 Lima North yearbook, she stops on the page for superlatives. Her eyes land on the picture she took with Matt Rutherford, the boy who won nicest smile. Her classmates named her the girl with the nicest smile.

_Girl_ , she stresses in her mind.

She tries not to think about the fact that no one would have voted for her if they knew what was between her legs.


	2. Chapter 2

Quinn is fourteen when it first happens.

It's the first day of high school, and she's more than a little nervous. She knows that things will be very different from Lima North.

The front steps of McKinley High are littered with students. Quinn takes it all in as she makes her way up the steps—a blonde boy playing an acoustic guitar; a group of kids smoking cigarettes; some red-headed guy with a beanie grinding on the edge of a step with his skateboard; several girls talking loudly into their cell phones, looking for their friends and squealing obnoxiously when they spot each other. Then there are the pockets of red—the lettermen and Cheerios uniforms belonging to the students who rule this school—and Quinn knows instinctively she'll never be a part of that crowd now that she's here.

She wonders where she's going to fit—which clique—and the thought is a little daunting.

Quinn arrives early to her first period biology class, which also serves as her homeroom. There are a handful of other students already there, but no one that she recognizes. She assumes that they all went to Lima West Middle School. She offers her teacher—an older, heavy-set woman with glasses named Mrs. Carlisle—a small smile before taking a seat at one of the tables in the front row.

She smoothes down the front of her dress—white with red and green pinstripes—before taking out her binder and notebook from her backpack along with a pencil and pen. As she finishes setting the items down on the table, she spots a flash of pink out of the corner of her eye. She looks up toward the doorway, and Quinn feels like the air has been knocked out of her when she sees the girl walking in.

 _Wow_ , is all Quinn can think as her eyes trace over the other girl's face, focusing in on her eyes—big, brown eyes that shine with enthusiasm. _She's beautiful_.

"Hi, I'm Rachel Berry," she greets Mrs. Carlisle with a beaming smile that seems to light up the whole room.

Quinn realizes then that she's staring, and, not wanting to get caught, she quickly lowers her eyes—only to find herself looking at the most gorgeous pair of legs she's ever seen. Rachel's green plaid skirt is so short and leaves very little to the imagination, and there's something about the white knee-highs she's wearing that appeals to Quinn. She feels a stirring in her belly—an urge that she's never felt before.

And then those legs are walking toward her, and Quinn flushes a bit at the idea of getting caught staring at this girl's legs. She immediately looks down at her binder, suddenly finding the argyle pattern on it fascinating. Rachel pauses on the other side of Quinn's table, and she feels those eyes on her.

"Is this seat taken?" Rachel's voice is sweet and melodic, and, to Quinn's surprise, almost hesitant.

Quinn looks up, and the look on Rachel's face is one of earnestness and something that almost looks like awe. Quinn bites her lower lip and shakes her head. "No, it's all yours."

Rachel smiles at her, and Quinn melts a little at that. She doesn't really know what's come over her, but she's too wrapped up in the feeling to consider what it all means.

Instead, Quinn watches as Rachel sets her rolling pink backpack alongside their table. She takes a seat beside Quinn, and then, Rachel leans over, getting something out of her bag. Her skirt, already so short, rides sinfully high up her thighs, exposing more of that perfect, tan skin. And then, the white trim of her panties, hugging against the swell of her backside, peeks out.

Quinn swallows thickly at the sight, feeling a rush of heat and a throb of pleasure in her core, and before she knows what's happening, her penis begins to stiffen.

A wave of panic washes over her as she realizes what's happening to her body, and she grabs her binder off the table, trying to discreetly move it down to her lap. It feels like the compression shorts conceal any bulge that might be occurring (she doesn't dare look, but she can feel her penis straining against the confines of her shorts), but she'd rather be safe than sorry.

Dr. Jalen's writings mentioned that this sort of thing— _erections_ —could and most likely would occur when she is aroused. Quinn just never expected it to happen like this—in school while looking at another girl's legs and catching a flash of panties. She doesn't know what to think—fear and desire swirling in a conflicting mixture.

She takes out her schedule—her hands shaking a little—trying to busy herself with anything other than the sight of Rachel's legs. Or Rachel's anything for that matter. She pleads with her body to cooperate—for her penis to go back to its normal state—but it isn't listening.

"Looks like we have most of the same classes," Rachel says, startling Quinn slightly. She doesn't say anything as Rachel continues to peer over at her schedule. "You don't have gym class?"

"No," Quinn replies, quickly moving the paper away from the girl's curious gaze and stuffing it somewhere inside her binder.

"How come?" she asks curiously.

"You sure are nosy," Quinn retorts, her own anxiousness adding an unintended bite to her words, and she instantly regrets it.

Rachel looks chastised. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious." She frowns then, looking a little distressed. "Where are my manners? I'm sorry, I didn't even introduce myself. I'm-"

"Rachel Berry," Quinn interrupts with a tentative smile, finding the girl's nervous rambling a little endearing, and it actually settles her own nerves a bit. "I know. I heard you introduce yourself before."

Rachel smiles in return, looking a little relieved.

"I'm Quinn," she offers, making sure she keeps her eyes on Rachel's face and nothing else. "Quinn Fabray."

"It's nice to meet you, Quinn," Rachel replies, looking at Quinn like she's the only one in the room, and Quinn feels her pulse quicken in response and another throb between her legs.

The bell mercifully rings, signaling the start of class and saving Quinn from having to try to speak as Mrs. Carlisle begins.

Rachel offers her a shy smile before turning her attention to the front of the room, and Quinn lets out a steadying breath as she tries to do the same.

* * *

Rachel, it turns out, went to Lima West Middle School, has two gay dads, and loves to sing. She puts gold star stickers after her name on every paper she writes on, and when Rachel puts those stars in the shape of a Q on Quinn's English notebook, she can't help but smile like an idiot.

There's something different about Rachel—something that draws Quinn to her—and it both excites and terrifies Quinn. She knows that she should keep things superficial—hold Rachel at arms' length, just like she does everyone else—but she can't help herself.

Every time Rachel smiles at her or asks her something about herself, Quinn feels a rush of affection for her. And every time she looks at those legs or those hands or that face—heck, _any_ part of her body—Quinn feels a surge of arousal. She wants Rachel, in ways she never thought she'd want someone, and she has _no_ idea what to do about it.

Not like she has any control over it. Her body can't help but respond to Rachel, and Quinn has never been more grateful for the existence of compression shorts. She's still not used it—the feeling of growing hard at the sight and thought of someone else, and the urges she feels as a result. Thoughts of running her hand over the soft skin of Rachel's thigh as she kisses plump lips come without warning, and Quinn always ends up feeling a mixture of guilt and desire.

Rachel would be horrified if she knew, she's sure. And her parents would _kill_ her if they knew she was crushing on another girl. She shudders to think of what her father would do if he knew.

Although, sometimes she wonders if the reason she likes Rachel has something to do with her condition. As much as she wishes otherwise, she _isn't_ like other girls. So maybe… maybe the reason she doesn't like boys but actually likes girls is because she has a penis.

That thought doesn't bring her much comfort though. It just makes her feel like even more of a freak.

But it doesn't stop her thoughts of touching Rachel and wanting to be around her. She's absolutely powerless to stop it, and that's the scariest part of all for Quinn.

* * *

"I really think you should join glee club," Rachel says as she waits for Quinn by her locker.

"I'm not a very good singer, Rachel," Quinn replies, transferring books from her bag to her locker.

"Please, Quinn," she pleads with an adorable pout, and Quinn finds that her resolve melts away when Rachel looks at her like that. "We're short enough members to compete, but if you join, we'll have enough, and I really think that we could be something special."

"I'll think about it, okay?"

Rachel's face lights up with a smile as she excitedly claps her hands together. "It'll be so much fun having you there."

Quinn shakes her head with a disbelieving smile. "I said I'd think about it, Rachel."

"I'm choosing to take that as a yes," she replies, her smile growing more playful.

Even though she's skeptical about this club, Quinn can't say no to Rachel. And knowing that Rachel wants her there—wants to spend more time with her—makes Quinn feel warm inside.

But that feeling is short-lived when out of the corner of her eye, Quinn sees the familiar swish of red skirts. She instinctively tenses—the correlation of that uniform with Frannie so ingrained in her mind.

"Ew, Quinn, why are you talking to that hobbit?" Santana sneers as she comes to a stop beside Quinn's locker. She's flanked by Brittany and a brunette that Quinn doesn't recognize.

"She's my biology partner," Rachel supplies before Quinn can respond.

"I wasn't talking to you, dwarf," she shoots back, before turning her attention back onto Quinn. "You know, you're really getting off on the wrong foot. First you turn down the Cheerios and now you're socializing with bottom feeders?"

Hazel eyes narrow as Quinn feels herself grow protective over Rachel. "Don't talk about my friend like that," she fires back.

Santana scoffs. "Really? Your friend?"

"Did I stutter?" she retorts, tilting her chin up in a silent challenge.

"Whatever," Santana says with a roll of her eyes. "You want to be a loser? Fine with me," she bites out before turning and walking down the hall with her fellow Cheerios in tow.

Quinn glares at their retreating forms. To her surprise, she isn't that torn up over the fact that her relationship with Santana and Brittany is seemingly over.

"Thank you for defending me," Rachel says once they're out of sight, brown eyes shining with gratitude and awed disbelief.

"I wish I didn't have to," Quinn replies. She wants to tell Rachel that Santana is wrong—that she's not a hobbit or a dwarf. That she's beautiful. But she can't say the words for fear of Rachel somehow gleaning the truth that she has more than friendly thoughts about her.

Instead, she turns her attention back to her locker, getting the last of her things for her afternoon classes.

"Why didn't you join the Cheerios?" Rachel asks as Quinn closes her locker. "You certainly seem like the type."

Quinn raises an eyebrow at that. "I'm not sure whether that was an insult or not."

Rachel's eyes widen as she rushes to explain herself. "Not at all," she insists. "I just meant that… you're really pretty, you know?" A faint blush spreads across Rachel's cheeks as she says it, and it makes Quinn's heart swell with affection (and invokes the usual unwanted reaction below her waist). "And you were popular at your old school, right?" she continues hurriedly. "Why give that up now that you're in high school?"

"Because I don't want to be a Cheerio," Quinn replies, slinging her bag over her shoulders. "If that means I'm not popular, so be it."

"I admire your conviction."

Quinn considers it more a matter of self-preservation than conviction, but she isn't about to correct Rachel. She likes being on the receiving end of her admiration too much to do that.

* * *

Glee club is surprisingly fun.

Quinn loves that she can dance, but what she loves even more is that she gets to listen to Rachel sing. She's never heard anything like her voice before, and it gives her chills every time she hears it.

And, as with most things Rachel Berry, it also turns her on.

It's starting to become a problem.

Her erections will go away on their own—half hour at most—but the urges… Quinn doesn't know what to do about them anymore.

So one fall day after school, Quinn hides away in her bedroom, making sure to lock her door, and sits on her bed. She flips through the binder Dr. Jalen gave her and goes to a section she has always been wary to look at—the one that comes right after "Erections"—"Masturbation." Her stomach feels a little funny just looking at the word. She has an idea of what it is, but the idea of it never appealed to her. Touching her penis—a part of her body that she's never liked—isn't something she ever felt comfortable with.

But that was before Rachel.

Before Rachel, it was easier to ignore what she hides between her legs, but now, it's become impossible to ignore. Not when just the mere thought of Rachel in her short skirts and knee socks makes her penis spring to attention. Not when it's _there_ —hard and straining in the confines of her underwear.

Dr. Jalen claims that masturbation is normal and actually healthy—allowing for the release of semen that builds up in the seminal glands. It will also help her relax and deal with sexual urges.

By the time she finishes reading, Quinn is blushing furiously. She puts the binder away and considers the idea of touching herself. Her stomach flips a little at the thought. She knows from dealing with her morning erections—just maneuvering her penis so she can go to the bathroom—how sensitive it gets.

She removes her compression shorts and lays back on her bed, taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself down. Tentatively, she reaches down, slipping her hand beneath her dress. She cups her half-hard shaft through her underwear, sending a tiny ripple of pleasure through her.

She bites her lip then and tries gently rubbing herself. It feels… it feels _really_ good, but then, as she feels herself grow fully erect, it starts to feel a little wrong.

She still doesn't like this part of her body, and even though this feels good, she can't stop herself from thinking that this isn't how _girls_ touch themselves.

A few frustrated tears leak out of her eyes, and she removes her hand. _I can't do this_ , she thinks, sitting up and wiping at her face with shaky hands. _God, why can't I just be normal?_

* * *

Glee club, it turns out, isn't exactly a boon to Quinn's popularity.

Quinn is on her way to meet Rachel and a few other kids from the club for lunch when she encounters a small group of jocks and Cheerios gathered in the hallway, waiting for her. Quinn recognizes some of them, and immediately, she fixates on the two holding Big Gulps—Finn and Puck.

"This is what happens to sub-basement dwellers," Puck sneers before he and Finn step forward and toss the contents of their cups at Quinn.

Quinn lets out a pained gasp as chunks of ice slam into her face—the corn syrup stinging her eyes. Laughter rings in her ears as anger and humiliation bubble up in her, but she's too shocked from the frozen impact to move.

"Enjoy your stay at the bottom with the rest of the freaks, _manhands_ ," Santana says as she walks by, prompting another round of laughter and a sick feeling to settle in her stomach.

Her tormentors mercifully follow Santana down the hallway, leaving Quinn to stand stupidly in a puddle of ice. She doesn't know if she wants to cry or throw up. Before she can do either, a small hand tugs at her elbow, leading her toward the girls' bathroom.

A handful of paper towels is silently pressed into her hands, and Quinn mashes her lips together, willing the tears not to fall as she buries her face into the paper towels. After taking a few deep breaths, she finally opens her eyes and looks at Rachel.

"Are you okay?" she asks, brown eyes shining with concern.

"I'm fine," Quinn says a little shakily. A chunk of ice slides down the front of her dress then and she shivers.

"Here, let me help," Rachel says, guiding Quinn over to the sinks and handing her more paper towels to wipe off the blue slush covering her clothes.

Quinn frowns at her reflection. Her dress is, without a doubt, ruined. And she has nothing to change into.

The sound of metal scraping against the floor pulls her attention to Rachel, who sets up a folding chair in front of a sink.

"I'll wash your hair out if you want," she explains, gesturing for Quinn to take a seat.

Quinn leans her head back and closes her eyes as Rachel gets to work. For the first time since this whole ordeal happened, Quinn lets herself relax. Rachel's fingers feel _so_ nice running through her hair, and it's enough to momentarily distract Quinn from the chill running through her body. She likes being taken care of by Rachel.

The faucet is shut off, and then Rachel begins to dry her hair with more paper towels. "I'm sorry," she says after a few moments, her voice laced with guilt.

Quinn cracks her eyes open, looking up at Rachel in confusion. "Why are you apologizing? You aren't the one who threw a slushy in my face."

"I'm the one who asked you to join glee club. This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't listened to me. You wouldn't have lost your friends."

"Rachel, stop," Quinn says firmly, sitting up and looking at her intently. "I like being in glee club. And I was never really friends with those guys. Just acquaintances. And I don't care if that's over now. You're actually the first person I truly enjoy spending time with, and…" she hesitates, realizing how sappy she sounds, but then decides to plow forward. Rachel deserves to hear it. "I wouldn't trade that for anything."

Rachel's face lights up at that. "Really?"

Even with the cold slushy dripping down her back, Quinn can't help but smile. "Really."

* * *

Rachel's birthday is December 18, and she has a small get together at her house to celebrate the occasion—inviting Quinn, Tina, Kurt Hummel, and Mercedes Jones.

Quinn has come to realize that Tina is actually pretty cool, and while she never actively made fun of the girl in middle school, she still feels badly for not sticking up for her.

From what Quinn can tell, besides herself, Kurt is probably the person Rachel is closest to. But she honestly isn't sure what to think of him. He looks at her sometimes in a way that sets Quinn on edge. Like he's trying to figure her out. He reminds her of a slightly less vicious version of Santana.

Mercedes is fun, but Quinn trusts her about as far as she can throw her. And lately, she's noticed that same scrutinizing eye on her that Kurt often aims at her.

And with the things she's hiding, it's not a comforting feeling—especially when Quinn gives Rachel her birthday present.

She had found it by chance while at the mall a few weeks back, and instantly knew Rachel had to have it. Her mother had looked at her oddly when she asked who it was for, but said nothing while Quinn made her purchase.

"I know that gold stars are your thing," Quinn explains as Rachel stares at the necklace in awe. "I hope you like it."

"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel exclaims before jumping forward and hugging Quinn unexpectedly. She is overwhelmed by having Rachel so close—the scent of her shampoo, the feel of her warm weight against Quinn, how perfectly she fits her arms—and then her brain temporarily short-circuits, all the blood in her brain rushing below her waist when Rachel breathes against her neck, "I love it."

"I'm glad," she manages to get out, somehow holding Rachel to her tightly while managing to keep a safe distance between their hips. She doesn't want to let go, but she's hyperaware of just how close Rachel is to her biggest secret, and despite how much _it_ obviously wants Rachel, Quinn is not going to get found out like this.

She lets out a sigh of relief and disappointment when Rachel finally lets go.

Kurt smirks and shares a knowing look with Mercedes. Quinn glares in their direction, but they don't seem to care.

"Can you put it on for me?" Rachel asks, drawing Quinn's attention back to her.

"Of course," she replies, taking the necklace from Rachel's hand.

Rachel turns around then and lifts her hair up. Quinn carefully places the gold chain around her neck, trying to keep her hands steady as her mind is assaulted with thoughts of brushing her lips and fingers against the soft skin of Rachel's neck and shoulders.

"There, all done," Quinn says softly, and Rachel turns back to face her, looking up at her so sweetly, Quinn forgets that there are other people in the room.

"It definitely suits you, Rachel," Tina says, cutting into the moment.

"I agree," Kurt adds with a slight quirk of his lips. "It's an excellent choice, Quinn."

She eyes him warily before she's being pulled up onto the small stage in Rachel's basement to sing karaoke. Quinn soon forgets all about Kurt when Rachel starts belting out "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" and makes everyone join in.

* * *

Frannie's return home for her winter break is something that Quinn has been dreading since Thanksgiving. Her sister had thankfully gone to visit her boyfriend's family for that particular holiday, but Quinn isn't so lucky this time around.

Since Frannie's arrival three weeks ago, Quinn has been constantly on edge—waiting for the next snide comment—and constantly feeling like she doesn't belong. Her father is so happy to have Frannie home—so _proud_ of her. Their parents ask about everything and anything having to do with her first semester at college—classes, friends, her boyfriend. Things that they have never cared to ask Quinn.

She can't wait until Frannie goes back, which, unfortunately, won't be for another week.

Quinn arrives home from school, shivering from the bitter cold outside. She hangs up her coat in the front closet and lets out a sigh as she looks down at her blouse. It's stained from a slushy attack at the hands of Azimio Adams, and she prays that she can get the coloring out. She has taken to keeping a spare set of clothes in her locker for when this happens, but she forgot to bring in another set after the last slushy attack. On the bright side, Rachel was there to help her clean up.

She walks through the kitchen, where her sister is reading the latest issue of _Cosmopolitan_ at the table, and curses her bad luck. Of all the rooms in this house, why does she have to be in this one?

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Frannie smirks and follows Quinn into the laundry room. "Purple looks good on you."

Quinn feels her anger spike but tries to ignore Frannie as she takes off her blouse and applies the stain remover.

"I guess my friends were right—you really are at the bottom of the totem pole. Mom and Dad must be _so_ proud," Frannie continues, a wicked glint in her eye as she steps into Quinn's space, cornering her. "You know, they always told me that I could never tell anyone about what a freak you are, but I don't see why I should hold back anymore."

Her mouth goes dry as a feeling of genuine fear settles over her. "You wouldn't."

"You're already at the bottom with the rest of those mouth breathers. I've heard what they call you, you know," she says. "I can't believe I hadn't thought of it myself." Blue eyes reminiscent of their father's look down at Quinn's hands as she delivers the final blow. " _Manhands_."

Something inside Quinn snaps at hearing that word, anger and hurt and fear crashing together as she lunges forward and tackles Frannie to the ground. "Why do you have to be so awful all the time?" she grits out angrily, her voice breaking as she tries not to cry.

Frannie doesn't answer. Instead she grips Quinn's upper arms and tries to roll them over. Quinn shoves her back down into the floor and shakes her. "Answer me!" she yells, her hands colliding with Frannie's face and torso—anywhere she can connect—even though her sister blocks most of the blows. She's just so angry and hurt and sick and tired of always being treated like this.

"Quinn!" their mother shouts, and Quinn can feel her hand grabbing at her shoulder. "Get off of your sister!"

Anger is still thrumming in her veins, but she somehow manages to let go of Frannie. She staggers to her feet and glares down at her sister, who meets her gaze with a matching expression.

"Go up to your room, Quinn," her mother says then, drawing her attention away from Frannie. "I don't want to see you again for the rest of the night."

Quinn's face falls as she feels the brunt of her mother's rejection. "But she-" she tries to defend herself before getting cut off.

"I don't want to hear it. Go upstairs."

Quinn clenches her jaw as Frannie smirks at her while straightening her hair and clothes.

She trudges up the stairs to her bedroom, unable to stop the tears from falling. She rummages through her drawer, taking out her McKinley High sweatshirt, and pulls it over her head.

She stares at her hands as her sister's taunt, the term that has caught on among the popular crowd at school, echoes in her mind. _Manhands_.

Rachel has assured her countless times that the term is idiotic and has no basis in reality. "After all, the jocks and Cheerios all call me a hobbit, which I am clearly not. Your hands are lovely and not at all mannish," she had told her, taking a hold of her hands. "See? Your fingers are long and slender—perfect for playing the piano."

Recalling Rachel's assurances settles her enough to stop crying, but she still feels miserable. Her mother never defends her, and she just knows how much worse it would have been if her father had been home. She wishes her family was more like Rachel's.

Quinn grabs her phone then and calls the now familiar number.

"Hello?" comes Rachel's sweet voice over the phone, immediately calming Quinn down a bit.

"Hey," Quinn replies, her voice betraying the fact that she had just been crying.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asks.

"I got into a fight with my sister," she explains, still sniffling a little. "She's such a bitch, I can't wait until she goes back to school."

"I'm sorry," Rachel says. "Do you want to come over?"

"I can't. My mom is mad at me for fighting with Frannie." She smiles a little then, touched by Rachel's concern. "Thank you though. Just talking to you is making me feel better."

"It's the least I can do. I hate when you're upset," Rachel says. "You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to bake you some oatmeal raisin cookies tonight."

"Those are my favorite," Quinn says with a smile, slowly forgetting all about her sister and her parents.

By the time she hangs up with Rachel, the only thing she's feeling is affection for her friend/crush—her anger and hurt long gone.

* * *

Quinn sits at the piano in the auditorium, attempting to transpose Coldplay's "Clocks" just for the heck of it as she waits for Rachel to meet her there after school. Spring break is just getting underway, and they have plans to meet up with Tina and Kurt later that afternoon, but Rachel wanted to practice with Quinn first.

Quinn feels Rachel before she sees her, and, anticipating her arrival, she stills her fingers atop the keys.

"Hey," Quinn greets her with a soft smile as she comes into view.

"Hi," Rachel replies, twisting her hands together nervously as she comes to stand beside the piano. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

The question takes Quinn off guard, and she wonders where Rachel is going with this. "Once," she replies. "Finn Hudson kissed me during a school dance back in middle school."

Rachel's brow furrows adorably as she no doubt tries to recall who Finn is exactly.

Quinn smiles a little at the expression. "He's the tall kid who threw a slushy in my face last week."

Rachel's eyes widen in surprise before her hands land on her hips in indignation. "He's an idiot."

"He is," she agrees, feeling a surge of warmth at Rachel's protectiveness. "Although, to be honest, I'd rather have a slushy facial than have to kiss him ever again."

"That bad, huh?"

Quinn chuckles. "You have no idea."

There's a lull in the conversation as Rachel nervously fidgets. Quinn watches her carefully, feeling her own anxiousness creep in.

"Have you ever thought about kissing a girl before?"

Quinn feels a nervous rush, and she blushes slightly as thoughts of doing much more than kissing Rachel flash in her mind. "I have," she admits.

Rachel smiles shyly at Quinn. "Me too," she says, biting her lower lip as she sits down next to Quinn on the piano bench and stares at her with those big, pretty brown eyes—knocking the air out of her lungs. "Specifically you," she confesses before leaning in and pressing her lips against Quinn's.

Hazel eyes widen in surprise before closing, her mind unable to focus on anything other than the feeling of Rachel's mouth moving gently against her own.

Kissing Rachel feels so good. Her lips are _so_ soft, and Quinn feels like she's floating on air. And then, Rachel's tongue peeks out, and a little whimper escapes her lips as she parts her mouth.

But then there's a familiar stirring in her pants—every brush of Rachel's lips and tongue making her grow harder—and in a panic, Quinn breaks their kiss.

Brown eyes flutter open and look at Quinn worriedly as she springs to her feet. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do this," Quinn says, voice breaking a little over the words. She stares at Rachel with a mixture of shame and regret.

"Why not?" Rachel asks, looking a little wounded.

Quinn doesn't even think to tell Rachel the truth—that they can't do this because Rachel wouldn't like her at all if she knew she had a penis that's responding to her kisses. "I just can't," she chokes out before turning to leave, running away from Rachel as fast as she can.

* * *

Rachel blows up her phone with text messages and voicemails.

Quinn deletes every single one of them.

She can't deal with this. She likes Rachel _so much_ … she's never felt this way about anyone before. But no matter how open-minded Rachel is, Quinn knows that what's between her legs will end whatever attraction Rachel might have for her.

" _You're a freak—a girl with a dick. No one's ever going to want you."_ Her sister's words ring in her mind with that painful truth.

There's no way Rachel will want her. Not like this.

* * *

She calls Dr. Jalen and asks him about the risks of surgery. She wants to get it as soon as possible.

"You're still not completely developed yet, so you need to wait at least another year. As for the risks… there's an 80% chance that you will be left completely desensitized, which means you won't enjoy sexual relations," he warns.

She blushes at that, but she is also angry. "It's not like I can enjoy them now," she bites back. "No one is going to want me like this."

"You would be surprised, Quinn."

"I don't want to hear it," she says, shaking her head. "Just… is that the only thing? Losing feeling down there?"

He sighs. "No, that's not the only thing. Because of the way your urethra and other ducts are fused together, it will most likely create complications with your urinary tract. You run the risk of having a lot of infections and not being able to go to the bathroom properly. That's why we elected not to operate on you as a baby, and it's for this reason that I _strongly_ advice you _not_ to get surgery."

"So it's not really an option. It never was, you just said that to—what? Give me false hope?"

"No, Quinn. Your parents kept suggesting it, but I knew it was just going to make you sick. My job as a doctor is to heal, not harm."

She hangs up the phone and cries, realizing this is it. She'll be like this forever, and if she ever wants a chance at being with Rachel, she has to come clean about it.

But she's not stupid (brave) enough to do it.

* * *

"Why are you avoiding me?" Rachel demands, confronting her at her locker first thing Monday morning.

"Can we not do this here?" Quinn asks, eyes darting around the hallway.

"Then where can we do it?" she asks.

Quinn doesn't answer. Instead she heads toward the empty choir room, and Rachel follows her. As she walks, she tries to think about what she will tell Rachel. She's thought about it for nearly a week, but now that the moment is here, she still doesn't know what to do. She knows that she's hurt Rachel's feelings, and she feels awful about it. But she doesn't know how to tell Rachel that they can't do this without making her feel worse.

Unfortunately for Quinn, they arrive to their destination all-too-soon. She settles down on a chair on the front riser and runs her palms nervously over the front of her dress as Rachel closes the door behind them.

"Why did you run away like that?" Rachel asks, hurt shining in her eyes as she approaches Quinn. "And why did you ignore all of my texts and phone calls over the break?"

Quinn can only stare at her helplessly.

Rachel sighs and takes a seat beside her, and Quinn thinks she has never looked so vulnerable.

"I know you like me, Quinn, and I _really_ like you too," she says, softening her tone—her brown eyes pleading with Quinn. "And while I know I'm not the most desirable girl in this school, and you could have anyone you wanted, I can absolutely say that I will do everything I can to make you happy."

Quinn can't help it. She starts crying at Rachel's confession because it makes her feel so loved and yet so guilty all at once.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel says sympathetically, reaching out to Quinn before seemingly thinking better of it. She bites her lower lip and frowns. "Are you questioning your sexuality? Are you afraid of what people will say? Is that it?"

"Yes," Quinn replies, frustrated. "No. It's… Rachel, it's more complicated than that."

"Talk to me," Rachel pleads. "Maybe I can help you make it less complicated."

Quinn lets out a bitter laugh and wipes at her eyes. "That's not going to happen."

"Maybe it will make you feel better then. You're obviously upset, and I hate to see you like this," she says, gingerly placing her hand on Quinn's thigh. "You can tell me anything. I will _never_ judge you."

Quinn's skin warms at the contact as she stares at Rachel's hand, and in that moment, she believes her—that she can tell Rachel anything and that she won't judge her. She closes her eyes and before she can stop herself, the words are coming out. "If I tell you, I need you to promise that you won't tell anyone."

"I promise," Rachel says with utmost sincerity.

"And I understand if you feel differently about me afterward. But _please_ , promise that you won't tell anyone," she pleads, begging Rachel with her eyes. She needs this to stay a secret, but part of her hopes that maybe, just maybe Rachel won't reject her completely. She doubts she'll still want her _that_ way, but she deserves to know the truth.

"I promise," Rachel repeats before adding, "You can trust me."

"Okay," Quinn breathes out. "Then come to my house after school, and I'll explain."

* * *

Quinn paces in the living room, her body thrumming with nervous energy. She's starting to have second thoughts about inviting Rachel over. But if she tells her the truth, she needs to do it on her own turf.

When the doorbell rings, she practically jumps out of her skin. She lets Rachel inside and then leads her up to her bedroom, and with every step she takes, she feels the tension in her body grow.

Rachel takes a seat on her bed, and Quinn settles down beside her. She lets out a steadying breath and rubs her hands against her thighs as Rachel waits patiently for her to speak.

"There's a reason I don't have gym class," she finally says, not really knowing how to start. "A medical reason."

Rachel's brow furrows in concern, but she doesn't say anything.

"I'm… I have a condition that makes me different from other girls," Quinn says a little shakily, and it's somewhat terrifying hearing those words actually come out of her mouth. She lets out another steadying breath as she averts her eyes and nervously smoothes down her dress. "I have a disorder of sex development.

"At first, the doctors thought I had a disorder called CAH, but it wasn't that. I just exhibited some of the same signs as girls who have it," she explains, not daring to actually look at Rachel. "My adrenal glands produced too much androgen while I was a fetus, and that made my… genitals… look like a boy's. In fact, my parents thought I was going to be a boy." She swallows thickly before closing her eyes.

"But I'm a girl," she says resolutely. "I have XX chromosomes, and I have female reproductive organs. But… I also have some parts that are…"

Rachel's hand covers hers in a comforting gesture, taking Quinn by surprise.

Quinn glances over at her briefly—seeing a look of absolute care and concern—and feels herself relax ever so slightly. She looks down and lets out a long breath before speaking again. "Besides looking like a boy down there on the outside, I have some parts on the inside that only boys are supposed to have."

"Like what?" There's no judgment in Rachel's voice, only curiosity.

"Seminal glands… and spermatic ducts. But my body doesn't make sperm. I just…" she trails off, cheeks flushing slightly. She doesn't know how to say it.

"Produce semen?" Rachel asks simply.

"Yeah," Quinn croaks.

Rachel's hand squeezes Quinn's lightly. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. What's between your legs doesn't define you." Rachel looks at her intently—her brown eyes shining with honesty and adoration. "I still think you're the prettiest girl I've ever met."

Quinn stares at Rachel in wide-eyed disbelief. Tears spring to her eyes, and before she can stop them, they're rolling down her cheeks.

Rachel cups her face—brushing away the tears with the pads of her thumbs—before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

Quinn closes her eyes and soaks in the comfort of Rachel's touch and her words. She almost can't believe this is happening. Rachel accepts her. Rachel still thinks she's pretty. Rachel still wants her.

Quinn feels something inside her shift—her heart finally finding something she can only describe as ease.


	3. Chapter 3

Quinn is fifteen when it first happens.

She's up in Rachel's bedroom—the two of them laying together atop her girlfriend's bed, exchanging heated kisses, and grasping at each other's shirts. Rachel nips lightly at Quinn's lower lip, and she gasps at the sensation as she feels her arousal spike.

Quinn loves being with Rachel like this—making out in private spaces, where Rachel's mouth and hands somehow manage to both soothe her insecurities and flame her desire. It doesn't matter to Rachel that she isn't like other girls. Rachel still wants her, and Quinn can feel how much with every kiss and caress.

In the four months that they've been secretly dating, they haven't done much more than make out and let their hands wander over each other's backs and thread into each other's hair. If they lay down, it's like they are right now—side-by-side, knees knocking together, with no chance for their hips to make any real contact.

Rachel's hot mouth sucking on Quinn's earlobe makes her mouth fall open and her pulse quicken. Rachel's hands are low on Quinn's waist—fingers playing near the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her skirt—and it sends a nervous fluttering through her belly. Rachel's never touched her there before, and she isn't sure which way those hands might go.

"Rachel," she gasps out. "We… maybe we should slow down."

"I don't want to," Rachel breathes into her ear, causing Quinn to shudder. "Can't we go just a little further?"

Quinn swallows. "What do you want to do?"

Rachel draws back then, making sure to look Quinn in the eye, and it settles her nerves. Rachel's lips are swollen from kissing and her hair is a little mussed, and Quinn thinks it's the sexiest thing ever. "Second base?"

"Oh, God," Quinn groans at the thought of actually touching Rachel's breasts and feels herself grow impossibly harder. "Okay."

A very enthusiastic kiss is her reward, and Quinn smiles into it, feeling a rush of affection and desire as she's gently pushed onto her back. Rachel's hand slips beneath her blouse then, and Quinn's stomach flutters in anticipation as Rachel's fingers brush against the skin of her belly.

Her lips falter against Rachel's mouth when that hand reaches its destination, gently squeezing Quinn through the thin material of her bra. Her mouth falls open in pleasure as Rachel continues to massage her breasts. Rachel places open-mouthed kisses along her neck as she pushes aside Quinn's bra, grazing her palm across a rapidly-hardening nipple.

"Oh," Quinn breathes out as she clutches at the back of Rachel's shirt, her hips jerking up. It feels like a live wire shooting down between her legs, and Quinn suddenly has the urge to relieve that pressure, but she's nowhere _near_ ready for that.

"This isn't too much, is it?" Rachel asks quietly, drawing back a little to look at her.

Quinn shakes her head. "No, it feels… really good," she confesses before letting out a soft moan at the sensation of Rachel lightly pinching her nipple.

Rachel smiles impishly, biting her lower lip, before ducking her head and latching her mouth back onto Quinn's neck. Quinn thinks she's going to explode from sensory overload. She can hardly believe this is actually happening—that Rachel is touching her intimately and _wants_ to touch her, even knowing about her condition.

She has never felt so loved.

And she wants nothing more than to make Rachel feel the same.

"Rachel?" she manages to get out.

"Hmm?" is murmured against her neck.

"I…" she starts. "I want to… can I?"

Rachel pauses what she's doing and gazes down at Quinn. "What do you need?"

Instead of answering with words, she slides her palms down Rachel's back, never breaking eye contact with her girlfriend as she slips her hands beneath her shirt, finding the clasp of her bra. She fumbles with it for a moment but manages to unhook it.

Quinn licks her lips slightly as she finally touches Rachel's chest for the first time, and as Rachel lets out a soft, little whimper of pleasure, all Quinn can think is, _wow_. Rachel's breasts are so soft and fit perfectly in her hands—like they were made for her.

Rachel kisses her again, and Quinn thinks she's the luckiest girl in the world.

* * *

"You're okay with what we've been doing, right?" Rachel asks Quinn late one night as their summer vacation nears its end.

Quinn is sprawled out on top of her bed with her phone pressed against her ear. "Yeah," she says. "If I wasn't, I would tell you. I… are you okay with what we've been doing? Sometimes it feels like… well, like you want more," she says, unable to keep the worry out of her voice.

"I love what we've been doing," Rachel assures her. "And while I do want more, I only want it if _you_ want it too."

Quinn lets out a breath of relief. "Thank you," she says, "for being so patient with me. Sometimes, I can't believe that you even want me at all."

"I'm more than happy to wait," Rachel replies. "And how could I _not_ want you, Quinn? You're beautiful and sweet, and you make me feel like the brightest star in the sky. I'm _lucky_ to have you."

Quinn shakes her head in disbelief. "I don't understand how you can think that, but… thank you."

"You don't need to thank me. You're so much more than you give yourself credit for. One day, you'll see what I do."

Quinn doubts that, but the fact that Rachel thinks it's true means everything to her.

* * *

When it comes to life at McKinley, sophomore year brings more of the same. Quinn is as low as ever on the social totem pole, but despite the slushy facials and the insults, she finds that it's not completely unbearable.

Having Rachel and the rest of the glee club is a major reason why. After spending much of her summer in the company of Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina, Quinn can honestly call them her friends now.

"Remember when you didn't like Kurt?" Rachel says playfully one night over the phone.

"I never said that," Quinn corrects her. "I just didn't trust him. It always looked like he was trying to figure me out."

"Well, he was," Rachel says. "I liked you, but I couldn't tell if you liked me. You should thank him, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Quinn replies with a smile. "If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't have kissed me, and we wouldn't be…"

The floorboard in the hallway near her bedroom door creaks, causing Quinn to trail off and a feeling of nervousness to settle in her stomach.

"Quinn?" Rachel's voice questions.

"Yeah, sorry," she replies, more quietly this time. "I think my mom was hovering near my door."

"Oh," comes an equally quiet response.

Quinn doesn't say anything for a moment. She's pretty sure her mother is gone, but she doesn't know what she was doing out there.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asks.

"I think so. I'm just a little freaked out… what if she heard something I said?"

"You didn't really say anything, Quinn."

"I guess."

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"I know that your parents are, well, strict, but we've never really talked about what they would do if they knew about us."

"I don't know what they would do exactly," she replies, feeling a touch of dread at the prospect. "But whatever it is wouldn't be good. They… they don't like gay people, Rachel. I haven't told them about your dads, because they probably wouldn't let me see you again if they knew about them. I don't even want to think about what they would do if they knew I like girls or that I have a girlfriend."

"I'm sorry," Rachel says.

"So am I," Quinn replies. "You have no idea how badly I wish I could walk down the hallway holding your hand."

"Quinn, I understand," Rachel assures her. "Besides, it's not like I want to have dumpster tosses added to the slushy facials we get, and if we came out at school, that's exactly what would happen."

Quinn feels a rush of anger over the reality of their situation. "I wish things were different."

"One day," Rachel says. "When we get out of Lima, things will be different."

Quinn can't wait for that day to come.

* * *

The hot water of the shower pounds against Quinn's shoulder blades, washing away the grime from the afternoon's glee club rehearsal. Invitationals is fast approaching, and New Directions has been hard at work getting ready for it.

She always gets a rush from performing, but Quinn is particularly wound up today. Rachel wore that little, black skirt Quinn loves so much, and when she twirled around during their dance routine, it would rise up, giving Quinn a flash of red panties.

She licks her lips as she recalls the goodbye kiss Rachel gave her, which quickly escalated into a heated make-out session behind the curtains in the wings of the auditorium, leaving Quinn a quivering mess.

She's still half-hard from it, and just the thought of Rachel—the way her tongue licked the outer shell of Quinn's ear as her fingernails scratched along Quinn's scalp—sends a fresh surge of arousal through her.

Unbidden, images of Rachel, on her knees, gazing up at her with those big, doe eyes spring to mind. Quinn groans softly at the thought, and she wraps her hand around her now fully erect shaft in a loose fist. She's so turned on right now that she can't even think about what she's doing—her only goal to find pleasure.

She strokes her hand up and down a few times, imagining that it's Rachel's hand.

"Oh, God," she breathes out, her hips jerking a little as she loses herself to the feeling and her imagination.

Quinn runs her thumb over the head, picturing Rachel's tongue licking her and suckling the tip. The mental image makes her hips jerk again, and before Quinn can stop it, pleasure rips through her as she comes into her hand.

As soon as the last tremor of pleasure fades, Quinn is flooded with shame. She presses her forehead against the cool tile of the shower and watches as the water washes away the sticky, white fluid coating her hand, wishing that it would also take away the self-loathing she feels.

Guilt starts to creep in as well. What would Rachel think if she knew what Quinn had just done? Yes, her girlfriend wants to do more, but she couldn't possibly want what Quinn had just imagined her doing. Just because Rachel is okay with her condition doesn't mean she would actually want to put her _mouth_ on her… her…

 _God_ , Quinn thinks, covering her face with her hands as the water continues to run down her back.

Even if Rachel wanted to do that (which she wouldn't, that much Quinn is sure of), Quinn knows she wouldn't feel much different right now. _She_ still isn't okay with the fact that she has this condition. She still sees herself as a freak.

She wonders if she will ever be able to truly reconcile with her body.

* * *

"I'm going with you to your next doctor's appointment," her father informs her over dinner one night.

Quinn casts a quick glance at her mother, who is busy staring into the bottom of her wine glass, before hesitantly meeting her father's hard gaze.

"Why?" she asks.

"Because from what your mother has told me, you're almost finished… developing," he explains, his lip curling in disgust. Quinn swallows thickly as the familiar feeling of humiliation swirls in her gut. "Which means that it's time to schedule your surgery."

Quinn looks away from him and closes her eyes as her mind begins to race. She's been putting off this conversation for six months now, hoping that, somehow, it would never come up.

"I'm not getting it," she finally says, her voice shaky.

"What?" he bites out, causing Quinn to tense.

"The surgery," she explains. "I'm not getting it. I… I talked to Dr. Jalen about the risks. And he said it will just create more problems."

"Like you having that thing between your legs isn't problem enough. Whatever the risks are, they can't be worse than that."

His words tear into her as she flushes hot with shame. "Well, they are," she says, doing her best not to cry. "Dr. Jalen said that it will make me more prone to infections. He advised against me getting it for that reason."

"Did you know about this, Judy?" he asks, clearly angered by this development.

"No, I didn't know she had talked to Dr. Jalen about this," she replies hastily, a frown marring her features.

"We're getting a second opinion," he grits out before taking a large swallow from his glass of scotch.

He doesn't say anything more. He doesn't have to. The look on his face says it all.

Quinn's stomach drops, smarting from once again being rejected by him. Her appetite gone, Quinn excuses herself from the table and hides away in her bedroom, seeking refuge in the only thing that has ever made her feel okay about herself.

"Hey, beautiful," Rachel greets her through the phone, and just the sound of her girlfriend's voice sets Quinn at ease, making it easier to forget how little her own father thinks of her.

* * *

The day of Invitationals, Quinn spends the evening at Rachel's house. They're both on a high from their performance, and it doesn't take long until they wind up atop Rachel's bed—their blue button-down shirts undone, hands wandering across bare skin, and lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Quinn hovers on her hands and knees above Rachel, pressing open-mouth kisses to her collarbone and smiling at the sight of the gold-star pendant that rests at the base of her throat. The fact that Rachel has never once taken the necklace off since Quinn gave it to her makes her ridiculously happy.

Actually, _everything_ about this girl makes her ridiculously happy. Even after all this time together, the fact that Rachel wants her is still something of a wonder to Quinn.

"I wish you would wear jeans more often," Rachel confesses as her hands find their way to Quinn's backside and squeeze, sending a delicious thrill through her body and a pretty blush to settle on her cheeks.

"Well, maybe I'll start wearing them more for you," she replies with a flirtatious smile.

"I'd like that," Rachel says before leaning up to kiss Quinn, sliding her hands up Quinn's back and tangling them in blonde hair.

Quinn murmurs into the kiss as she shifts to Rachel's right side and settles down beside her on the bed. She trails a hand down her side and over the curve of her hip, squeezing lightly. She lets her hand continue to wander, eventually traveling lower, caressing Rachel's thigh, and Quinn instantly decides it's better than her imagination.

"Rachel?" she asks, breaking their kiss.

"Hmm?" Rachel replies, scratching her nails lightly against the back of Quinn's neck, causing her to shiver with pleasure.

"Can I…?" she trails off, moving her hand to the button of Rachel's jeans.

Rachel licks her lips as her eyes grow darker. "Please," she says, shifting onto her back while Quinn's slender fingers work to undo the button and lower the zipper. Rachel lifts her hips up to help Quinn remove her jeans completely, and Quinn swallows as she looks down to see Rachel in nothing but a pair of light blue panties and an open buttoned-down shirt.

"You're so beautiful," Quinn says reverently as she settles back down beside her, pressing a lingering kiss to Rachel's lips as she once again caresses the outside of Rachel's thigh. She slowly begins moving it toward the apex of her legs until her fingers graze the trim of her panties.

Quinn draws back and watches Rachel's face carefully as she rubs her fingers against the damp cotton of her underwear. Her mouth is parted open slightly, and a soft, little whimper escapes her lips when Quinn's fingers brush against a certain spot.

She grows harder at the sound and wants to hear more of it. She wants to make Rachel feel good. So she tries to find that spot again—she thinks it's Rachel's clit—and moves in small circles over it.

"Is that good?" she asks quietly.

Brown eyes, darkened with desire, crack open and meet Quinn's gaze. "Mmm, yeah," Rachel confirms, her voice a touch rougher than usual. "I… I want more, Quinn."

"Okay." Quinn bites her lower lip as she dips her fingers inside Rachel's panties. Her fingertips brush against coarse hair, and then, she's touching silky wetness.

"Oh," Rachel breathes, burying her face into Quinn's neck as she subtly shifts her hips to meet Quinn's fingers.

Quinn lets out a steadying breath and moves her fingers against Rachel—gathering up the wetness from between her folds before rubbing her clit again. She doesn't really know what she's doing, but Rachel seems to be enjoying it, and that's really all that matters.

"Can you?" Rachel asks after awhile. "Inside?"

Quinn swallows thickly and moves her hand lower, hesitantly pressing the tip of her middle finger to Rachel's entrance.

A small hand fists itself into the back of Quinn's shirt as she enters Rachel for the first time, and, _oh_. The sound that Rachel makes and the way she feels around her finger—so soft and warm and wet—has Quinn feeling more turned on than ever.

Quinn draws back a little to look down at Rachel as she begins to slowly pump in and out of her girlfriend.

Rachel looks so beautiful right now—her naked chest rising and falling with each gasp of pleasure, her brow furrowed, and her mouth open in ecstasy. And the feeling of her pushing herself onto Quinn's finger with her hips is the hottest thing she's ever felt.

It feels so amazing to be closer to Rachel, to be sharing this experience with her—to make her feel good.

Rachel's hand pulls at Quinn's shirt as she begins to tremble. Quinn swallows thickly when Rachel whimpers her name—her breathing growing more erratic as she continues to thrust against Quinn's hand. And then Rachel's body goes taut, and she releases a strangled whimper as she comes undone in her arms.

It's the most incredible thing Quinn has ever witnessed, and when those sated brown eyes open and look at her, Quinn feels her heart swell.

"Thank you," Rachel says breathlessly before pulling Quinn down for a sensuous kiss.

The heat between them slowly begins to build back up as their lips and tongues continue to move together.

And then one of Rachel's hands snakes down and cups Quinn's erection through her jeans, causing Quinn's hips to jerk as she lets out a gasp of pleasure and panic. It's one thing to have fantasized about Rachel touching her down there, but the reality of it brings all of her insecurities rushing to the forefront of her mind.

"No, don't," Quinn says, grabbing Rachel's hand and pulling it away from the bulge in her pants.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says guiltily. "I thought…"

"I'm not ready," she tells her apologetically, not meeting Rachel's eye and staring at the gold star resting against her chest.

"Quinn, look at me," Rachel pleads softly, and Quinn does. "It's okay," she assures her, running her fingers through Quinn's hair as she leans in and presses a gentle kiss to her lips. "Whenever you're ready."

* * *

Quinn faceplants on Rachel's bed and groans into a soft pillow before breathing in deeply, inhaling the scent of Rachel that lingers on her sheets.

Rachel giggles as she takes a seat next to Quinn's prone form. "Tired?"

Quinn turns her head to the side so she can respond. "Exhausted. Mr. Schuester takes glee club a lot more seriously than Mr. Ryerson did."

"Well, I for one am glad," Rachel says, resting a small palm on Quinn's lower back. "We didn't even make it past Sectionals last year, but I think we can make a serious run this year."

"That would be nice," she agrees as Rachel lightly scratches her back through her shirt. She lets out a content sigh, enjoying the feeling of her girlfriend's touch and letting herself relax.

They fall into a comfortable silence then, the only sound in the room coming from Rachel's iPod dock. Eventually, Rachel's hand slips beneath Quinn's shirt, and her touch grows lighter. Her fingers trace absent patterns along Quinn's skin for awhile before lingering against the puckered indentations on her lower back.

"What are these from?" Rachel asks, a note of worry in her voice.

Quinn tenses and feels the shame come rushing back as she glances up at her. She swallows thickly, a lie on the tip of her tongue before remembering that Rachel won't judge her. "My dad," she admits quietly after a moment. "I… I used to wet the bed when I was little, and I would get punished." She closes her eyes, trying to force the memories away and instead focus on the steady and comforting touch of Rachel's hand on her skin. "He hit me with his belt and sometimes the buckle would catch."

She doesn't tell Rachel that the reason she wet the bed was medically related and completely out of her control. Eventually, her foreskin had to be removed and her urethra adjusted in a procedure when she was eight. Her father never once said he was sorry.

Rachel's hand stills, and Quinn cracks open her eyes once more to look up at her. There's a look of pure horror on her face, and she looks like she's about to cry. "Oh, Quinn," Rachel says, her voice hitching as a tear escapes. "I don't… that's… how could someone _do_ that to you?"

Quinn mashes her lips together and closes her eyes, trying to stop her own tears from falling.

"You didn't deserve this. I'm sorry you had to suffer like that," Rachel continues softly. She leans down, and Quinn can feel tendrils of hair tickling her back as her shirt is slowly lifted up.

And then soft lips gently press against her scars, and Quinn can't stop herself from letting out a shuddering breath at the sensation.

Her hands twist into the sheets beneath her as she soaks Rachel's pillow with bittersweet tears—finally finding the release she never knew she needed.

* * *

Lima is gifted with a snow day in late January, and Quinn makes her way through the cold slush to Rachel's house in the late morning—the promise of an empty house and Rachel all to herself enough to make the twenty-minute walk bearable.

Rachel greets her with a kiss and a mug of hot chocolate, and once her girlfriend deems her sufficiently warmed up, she leads her upstairs to watch _Funny Girl_.

Quinn, of course, has other ideas—ones that involve getting Rachel naked—and, fortunately, Rachel doesn't mind at all.

As she watches Rachel come apart around her fingers, Quinn thinks that she'll never get tired of making Rachel feel like this. She smiles and leans down to kiss her before settling on her side to lay next to her girlfriend, intertwining her fingers with Rachel's.

"Does it hurt?" Rachel asks, glancing down at the small tent in Quinn's pants. She had foregone wearing her compression shorts today, so the evidence of her arousal is more noticeable than usual.

Quinn blushes a little and makes a small noise in the back of her throat. "Kind of. But it'll go away on its own, eventually."

"Oh, you don't masturbate to get rid of it?"

"Rachel!" she flushes.

"Sorry," Rachel says, biting her lower lip as she looks at Quinn apologetically. "I just thought… well, that's something people who are intimate can talk about, right?"

"I…" Quinn starts, averting her gaze. "I guess so."

"So?"

Quinn swallows. "I… I've tried it a few times, but I never really felt comfortable doing it. Most of the time I wish I didn't have a penis."

"Oh, Quinn," she says sympathetically.

"I mean, wouldn't you rather I didn't have it?" she asks, chancing a glance back at her.

Rachel gazes at her thoughtfully for a long moment before answering. "Yes and no."

Quinn frowns, unsure of what Rachel means by that, feeling her insecurities creep in.

"The _only_ reason I wish you didn't have it is because of how _you_ feel about it. It's obvious you aren't comfortable with that part of your body, and I wish you were." Rachel tightens her hold on Quinn's hand before continuing. "Because I love every part of you, and I honestly can't wait until you let me get to know that part of you as well."

Hazel eyes widen in disbelief. "Do you really mean that?"

"I do," Rachel says before pressing a soft kiss to Quinn's lips. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I _really_ want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

* * *

Quinn tosses and turns in her bed, restless and unable to fall asleep. She's hasn't been able to stop thinking about what Rachel said to her last week—about how she _wants_ to touch her down there.

When Rachel had first tried to touch her that night after Invitationals, Quinn had assumed that she was just doing it to return the favor, not because she actually _wanted_ to. Knowing that has changed Quinn's outlook—if Rachel, the girl she cares about more than anything else in the world, can love her body, then maybe it isn't so freakish. She's still not ready to actually act on it with her girlfriend, but she is ready to take another try at touching herself.

Just the thought of Rachel telling her that she wants to make Quinn feel good has her hard, but unlike before, when she was filled with so much doubt and self-loathing, all she feels now is desire.

She slips her left hand beneath her pajama top, slowly sliding it up her stomach until she reaches the underside of her right breast. She palms it softly, feeling her nipple grow hard as a jolt of pleasure shoots to her core. She bites her lower lip to stifle a moan as she imagines Rachel touching her—the way her girlfriend likes to pinch her nipple while she leaves soft bites along her neck.

Quinn grows even harder at the mental image and cups herself with her right hand through her pajama bottoms. Her stomach flips a little at the contact, but it feels too good to stop. For once, she's not thinking about how her condition makes her different from other girls—all she can think about is how Rachel desires her, and it spurs her on.

She rubs herself through her pants for a bit before realizing she needs more. Her hand dips beneath her waistband and wraps loosely around her erect penis. Quinn licks her lips and experimentally thrusts up into her hand as she strokes it down, recalling the way Rachel thrusts herself onto Quinn's fingers.

It doesn't take long and within minutes, she feels herself getting close to orgasm. Not wanting to make a mess, she grabs a wad of tissues from her bedside table. The sensation of wrapping them around the head of her penis is enough to send her over the edge—her hips jerk, and she comes with Rachel's name on her lips.

Her breathing gradually evens out, and she blinks into the darkness of her bedroom as she slowly removes her hands from her pants, feeling warm and sated. She quickly gets up to toss the tissues into the small wastebasket beneath her desk, before climbing back into bed.

As she pulls the covers around her, Quinn waits for the shame to take over like it has every time she's touched herself before. But she finds that, for once, it's barely there.

* * *

"Have fun tonight, you two," Kurt says playfully before kissing Rachel on the cheek. He turns to face Quinn and smiles at her. "Happy birthday, Quinn," he adds, pecking her cheek before following Mercedes and Tina out the door.

Quinn wraps her arm around Rachel's waist as Rachel rests her head on her shoulder—the two of them watching their friends pile into Kurt's new Escalade and waving as they drive off.

"Did you enjoy your birthday celebration?" Rachel asks, closing the door and looking up at Quinn earnestly.

"I did," Quinn says, touched by everything Rachel has done for her—not just today, but since they first met. "Thank you for planning this. I've never really had an actual birthday party before."

Rachel frowns. "I'm sorry we couldn't do this last year."

"It's okay. It was my own fault anyway," Quinn replies, recalling how she spent her fifteenth birthday—beating herself up over running away from Rachel and learning that her condition was something she would have to deal with for the rest of her life.

Rachel shakes her head and takes Quinn's hand in hers. "Let's not think about that. We've come so far since then."

Knowing Rachel's right, Quinn follows her upstairs, grateful that her fathers are completely oblivious to the true nature of their relationship. She's also grateful for the fact that her mother allowed her to actually spend the night—the assurance of sleeping in the guest room and thus ensuring Quinn's privacy enough to get her to relent.

Of course, she has no intention of sleeping in the guest room. Not tonight.

The two of them get ready for bed—separately—although sleep is the furthest thing from Quinn's mind at the moment. She changes out of her blue cardigan, blue and white sleeveless dress, compression shorts, and underwear, opting for a pink, long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of gray, flannel pajama bottoms, before brushing her teeth and wiping away the makeup from her face.

She lets out a long, steadying breath as she gives herself a once over in the mirror. This is the most casual she's ever allowed herself to appear around Rachel, and that in itself feels like a huge step.

When she steps back into Rachel's bedroom, she finds her girlfriend in an equally casual state. Quinn leans against the doorjamb and smiles softly to herself as she watches Rachel—dressed in a matching set of white with tiny, black polka dot pajamas—putting in the DVD Tina had gotten Quinn for her birthday.

They cuddle up together on top of Rachel's bed as the opening credits for _Match Point_ roll. Quinn breathes in the scent of Rachel's shampoo and lets out a sigh of contentment. This is definitely the best birthday she's ever had, and it isn't even over yet.

It doesn't take long before the movie is forgotten—Rachel pressing soft kisses along the column of Quinn's throat as her hands slowly begin to roam over the contours of Quinn's body. Quinn turns her head and captures Rachel's lips with her own. She swipes her tongue against Rachel's, tasting mint, and Quinn smiles into their kiss, once again struck by how lucky she is to have her.

Rachel slowly draws Quinn's sleep shirt up, dragging her fingers along Quinn's ribs as they continue to kiss languidly, only stopping to remove her top completely. There's no rush in any of Rachel's movements—she takes her time mapping Quinn's neck and torso with her mouth and hands.

Quinn feels her heart swell with affection as her desire grows. With every kiss and caress, Quinn feels her body alight in pleasure until it feels like she's burning up. She can feel her penis straining in her pants, and for a moment, she thinks about what it would be like to have Rachel's hand move down and…

"Rachel?" Quinn breathes, voice shaky from arousal and nerves. "I… I think I'm ready."

Rachel's ministrations instantly slow as she lifts her head in order to look at Quinn—her brown eyes shining with want and surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," Quinn confirms.

"How far?"

She makes a small noise in the back of her throat and blushes. "You can touch me… down there, if you want."

Rachel bites her lower lip and smiles. "I want," she confirms, and Quinn melts, almost unable to believe it.

She leans up and captures Rachel's lips in a tentative kiss, which gradually deepens. After a few moments, Rachel's hand begins to wander down her body, and Quinn feels her anticipation grow—her stomach erupting with butterflies—as her girlfriend continues her decent. When fingertips make contact with the waistband of her pants, Quinn breaks their kiss, breathing heavily against Rachel's mouth.

"You're shaking," Rachel observes, running a soothing palm against her belly before pressing a gentle kiss to Quinn's lips. She pulls back and stares intently into hazel eyes. "It's just me, Quinn," she says. "I just want to make you feel good, okay?"

"I know, Rach," she says, trying to take a steadying breath. She doesn't know why she's so nervous.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rachel asks.

Quinn nods. "I do."

Rachel kisses her again, and Quinn tries to relax. Rachel's fingers start moving again, playing at the waistband of Quinn's pants for a moment before finally dipping her hand beneath it. Quinn's lips falter as fingertips brush against the underside of her penis, sending tingles of pleasure through her core. And then Rachel's hand gently wraps around her hard shaft, and Quinn lets out a soft gasp.

"Wow," Rachel breathes in awe, causing Quinn to open her eyes and gaze up questioningly at her girlfriend. "You feel so good, Quinn," she says before pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw.

She continues pressing sweet kisses to Quinn's neck as she slowly begins to stroke Quinn's length, causing her to whimper. "Is this right?" Rachel asks after a moment, a touch of uncertainty coloring her voice.

Quinn swallows and nods. "Yeah, you're… oh," she gasps, her hips bucking a little into Rachel's hand. "You're perfect."

Rachel smiles shyly, looking incredibly pleased with herself, and Quinn has no idea what to do with that. Suddenly overwhelmed by just _how much_ she feels in this moment, she buries her head in the crook of Rachel's neck and wraps her right arm around Rachel's back, clutching at her sleep shirt.

Quinn's breathing grows heavier as her pleasure builds. It feels like her heart is going to swell and burst in her chest, and the gentle pumping of Rachel's hand… nothing has ever felt so good. Her whole body tingles with pleasure, and Quinn has never felt closer to Rachel.

"Can I take these off?" Rachel asks, momentarily pausing in her pleasuring of Quinn and hooking her fingers into her waistband.

A fresh wave of nerves washes over her at the thought of being bare to Rachel's gaze, but her arousal keeps her from panicking completely. She nods softly and makes a noise of affirmation as she raises her hips slightly. Slowly, her pants are lowered down to her thighs, exposing her hard penis to the cool air of the room, and the feeling of being on display has her stomach doing somersaults.

"You're so beautiful, Quinn," Rachel says softly before pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she once again wraps her fist around her penis. Quinn feels her worry slip away, giving herself over to the pleasure as Rachel resumes pumping her hand up and down Quinn's length.

Quinn feels herself growing close and clutches tighter to Rachel, breathing heavily against the soft skin of her neck. A strangled whimper escapes Quinn's lips as her mouth falls open, her hips jerking up into Rachel's hands as she comes for the first time with another person—little spurts of cum landing on her stomach as she rides through her orgasm, Rachel's small hand slowing but never letting go.

When Quinn finally comes back to herself, she holds on to Rachel tightly, and, against her own volition, she begins to cry—too overwhelmed by the experience of being with Rachel like this.

"Shh, Quinn, don't cry," Rachel says, worry lacing her voice. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're beautiful, and I loved watching you come."

She shakes her head and meets Rachel's concerned gaze, offering her a watery smile. "I'm… I'm not upset. I'm just… overwhelmed. But I'm… it's okay. I'm okay."

Rachel's relief is palpable as she wipes the tears from Quinn's cheeks with the pad of her thumb. She leans down then, brushing her nose against Quinn's before kissing her again. Quinn returns it before gently breaking away, gazing lovingly at her girlfriend, and seeing the tenderness shining back at her.

"I love you," Rachel says with a soft smile.

Quinn smiles through her tears. "I love you too."

* * *

"It's the last day of school," Rachel says with a shake of her head before pulling on a clean tank top. "You think they would have foregone slushying anyone."

"They're Neanderthals," Quinn replies, throwing Rachel's stained clothes into her washing machine. "What else would you expect from them?"

"I still don't understand why they target us," Rachel continues with a thoughtful frown, which Quinn finds adorable. "We had a respectable showing at Regionals, and next year, I know we'll make it to Nationals. That's more than that pathetic excuse for a football team could ever hope to achieve."

"We'll show them next year," Quinn says, taking Rachel into her arms. "Until then, we have the whole summer to enjoy ourselves."

Rachel beams at her before leaning up and pressing a quick peck to her lips. "Well then you better get out of that stained dress so we can properly take advantage of it."

Quinn smirks and raises her eyebrow. "I look forward to it," she says before turning her back to Rachel and pulling her dress over her head, leaving her in just a bra and her compression shorts. She tosses it in the washing machine and adds some detergent.

Just as she turns it on, Rachel's arms snake around her waist, and Quinn brings her hands up to meet them. Her girlfriend nuzzles the back of her neck before stringing a line of kisses along her shoulder, causing Quinn to let out a soft hum of pleasure.

Quinn turns in her arms and settles her hands on Rachel's waist, leaning down and capturing Rachel's top lip between her own. Rachel slides her hands down to Quinn's backside and squeezes, instantly making Quinn's penis stand at attention. She flicks her tongue, deepening their kiss, and Rachel murmurs happily in response.

Quinn moans softly as Rachel presses her hips against hers, drawing her hands up Rachel's back—splaying them against her shoulder blades. This—hip-to-hip contact—is new, but Quinn absolutely loves it.

She loves _everything_ about being with Rachel, she thinks, smiling into the kiss.

"What the hell is going on here?" a shocked and angry voice booms, causing them both to jump apart.

Quinn feels her heart drop into her stomach as panic rises up. _This isn't happening. He's not supposed to be home._

Terrified, she looks over to see her father standing in the doorway of the laundry room, anger and disgust marring his features. She can tell that he's moments away from exploding—she knows her father's temper well enough by now.

"Mr. Fabray," Rachel starts.

"Rachel, don't," Quinn warns, moving herself in front of Rachel in an effort to protect her. She doesn't know what her father might do.

"Get out of my house," he growls, stepping into the room, his hard, blue eyes locked on Rachel.

Rachel clutches at Quinn's arm, and she can practically feel how worried and afraid she is.

"Just go, I'll be fine," she says, wanting Rachel as far away from her father as possible.

"I'm not leaving you alone," Rachel argues, her voice trembling a bit.

Her father's patience further slips as he takes another step into the room. "If you don't leave now, I'll make you," he threatens, his voice dangerously low, and Quinn's fear spikes.

"Rachel, go," she says, anxiety creeping into her voice.

"Quinn…" comes the anxious reply.

"Get out of my house now, you filthy dyke!" he shouts, the dam finally breaking as he shoves Quinn to the side and grabs Rachel's forearm, pulling her out of the laundry room and into the kitchen.

"Dad, no!" Quinn, terrified that he actually has his hands on her girlfriend. "Let her go!" She stumbles after him, clutching at the back of his shirt and arm desperately. Her eyes meet Rachel's, and it's obvious that she's scared out of her mind. "She's leaving," Quinn says, pleading with Rachel through her eyes. "She's leaving right now."

He lets go of Rachel then, whirling around on Quinn and pushing her back, causing her to stumble into the counter. "Get your hands off me," he says, sneering in disgust as looks at her body. "And put some damn clothes on."

She swallows hard as she feels the sting from his rejection, but more important right now is Rachel and making sure she gets out of the crossfire, especially since her father attention has turned back on Rachel. Quinn looks over at her girlfriend, hovering by the doorway—confliction and fear shining in brown eyes, her hands wringing together as her father advances toward her. "Rachel, please go," she pleads one more time.

She finally relents, although Quinn can tell just how torn she is by the look in her eyes. "I'm leaving now," Rachel says to her father, holding her hands up in a defensive position as she takes a step back. She looks at Quinn one more time before telling her, "I won't go far."

Quinn raises a trembling hand to her face as she watches Rachel go, keeping a close eye on her father, hoping he won't do anything to her girlfriend. He doesn't, but the fact that he touched her at all has her more upset than anything.

"I can't believe you, Dad," she says, tears stinging her eyes as he turns back to face her. "How could you do that to Rachel?"

"Don't try to turn this around on me. You are the disappointment here!" he shouts, making Quinn flinch.

"Why?" Quinn asks, trembling a little from all the emotion running through her. "Because I actually found someone who loves me, even knowing about my condition?"

"That girl _does not_ love you," he growls. "She's a sexual deviant, just like the faggots who raised her."

"Don't talk about them like that!" Quinn yells back.

Her father moves so swiftly, she doesn't have time to react. A hard palm strikes her face, and Quinn gasps in pain as she cups her stinging cheek. "Don't you dare talk back to me," he threatens. "This is _my_ house, and I can do and say what I want under my roof." His lip curls in disgust as he looks down at her compression shorts. "Now put some goddamn clothes on."

Sniffling, she steps back into the laundry room and grabs a yellow and white sundress off the rack.

It's only now that she realizes how hard she's shaking. She was so afraid for Rachel—she's never been more afraid in her life—and it pales in comparison to the fear she has for herself. She clenches her fists and tries to steady her breath before pulling on her dress.

She nervously smoothes down the front of it before heading back into the kitchen where her father is waiting for her. A glass of scotch sits on the counter next to him, and he grips it tightly in his hand. His hard, blue eyes watch Quinn, and she feels herself wilt under his gaze—not daring to meet his eye as she stands a few feet away.

"We did not raise you to act this way," he starts, anger lacing his voice. "If you want to continue living under my roof and having my support, you will abide by my rules." He takes a large swallow of scotch, grimacing slightly, but Quinn knows it's not from the taste. "What you're doing with this girl is _sick_ and _wrong_ , and it will end immediately." Quinn feels her own anger flare up, but his hard tone brokers no interruption. "Tomorrow, we will schedule your surgery. I don't care what the doctors say about the risks. We have lived long enough with this disorder, and it's about time it ended."

Quinn stares at him with teary eyes, feeling her heart crack in two. "You're right," she finally says, her voice quiet. "It is time it ended. You've never accepted me or loved me for who I am, and I'm tired of feeling like I'm not good enough." She pauses, thinking of Rachel and gathering her courage. "But I'm not going to make myself sick just to get your approval. And I don't care what you say. Rachel _does_ love me. She loves everything about me, and I love her. Why should I give up the one good and true thing in my life for your conditional love?"

His face twists into a snarl as he lets out an unintelligible growl. The glass of scotch that sails toward her head and shatters against the wall has her heart pounding in her chest as she stares at him wide-eyed.

"Get out," her father snaps, taking a step forward and causing Quinn to step back. "You want to live the rest of your life as a freak? _Fine_. You are no longer my daughter."

His words rip through her, and she swallows down her tears as she mashes her lips together. The look of utter disgust on his face as he advances on her, cuts deeper into the wound he has inflicted on her heart. It kills her that she will never be enough for him.

She takes one last look at him—her hazel eyes shining with sorrow and rejection—and walks out.

When she steps outside, Rachel is waiting for her at the end of her driveway. Quinn sees her refuge and runs towards her, unable to stop the tears that start rolling down her cheeks. Rachel, who clearly has been crying as well, opens her arms, and Quinn collapses into her.

"I'm sorry," Quinn sniffs. "I'm sorry for what he did to you. I never wanted that to happen."

"Shh," Rachel soothes, running her hand up and down Quinn's back. "It's okay. I don't care about that right now. All I care about is you. Are you okay?"

Her face falls as she buries it into Rachel's shoulder, her tears coming harder. "He kicked me out," she sobs, her voice muffled.

Rachel tightens her hold on Quinn and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm so sorry, Quinn."

Kurt's Escalade rolls up then, taking Quinn somewhat by surprise, but she's glad he's there. She and Rachel quickly climb into the back seat and shut the door behind them.

Kurt turns to look at Quinn and offers her a sympathetic frown, his blue eyes shining with concern. "Rachel called," he explains. "I got here as soon as I could."

"Thank you, Kurt," Rachel says gratefully, and the two of them share a brief look before he turns around and puts the car into drive.

Quinn tangles her fingers with Rachel's and rests her head against Rachel's shoulder, trying to draw comfort from her girlfriend as Kurt drives them away from the place Quinn will never call home again.


	4. Chapter 4

Quinn is seventeen when it first happens.

New Directions are in New York City for Nationals, and Quinn and Rachel are holed up in their hotel room. Tina and Mercedes have graciously given them some alone time—something that is hard to come by now that Rachel's parents are aware of the nature of their relationship.

"Are you sure you don't want to go explore the city with the rest of the club?" Quinn asks from her seat on the bed, admiring the view of her girlfriend's legs in red booty shorts as Rachel puts the chain on the door to ensure their privacy.

"We can explore later," Rachel replies, climbing onto the bed and straddling Quinn. She leans in and presses her forehead against Quinn's, gazing at her with smoldering eyes as she pushes her onto her back. "It's been too long since I've had you all to myself and been able to properly take advantage of it."

Rachel wastes no time capturing Quinn's lower lip between her own. Quinn's hands find purchase on Rachel's backside, squeezing it through the thin material of her girlfriend's shorts as she deepens their kiss. Every brush of their lips and swipe of their tongues makes Quinn's arousal grow, and she thrusts her hips up, her erection pressing deliciously against the warmth between Rachel's legs, causing Rachel to moan into her mouth.

Wanting to be on top, Quinn rolls them over, her skirt riding up as she settles herself between Rachel's legs. She dips her head to the curve of Rachel's neck, placing open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin there as her hips slowly begin to rock against her girlfriend.

Rachel's hands fly to Quinn's upper back as she starts to thrust up against Quinn's length—the two of them moving against each other in tandem.

Quinn absolutely loves being like this with Rachel. Even though they're fully clothed, it feels so intimate—like they're coming together as one.

Their breaths grow heavier with every movement, and a light sheen of sweat forms on Quinn's brow from the exertion. Long, bare legs hook themselves around Quinn's waist, and Quinn licks her lips before nipping lightly at the underside of Rachel's jaw—the new angle making her feel even closer to Rachel. It's not quite enough for Quinn to get off, but she can tell that Rachel's getting closer.

"Quinn," Rachel whimpers against her neck, and Quinn rocks harder against her girlfriend's center, determined to make her come.

"Come for me, Rach," she pants against her jaw.

"Oh," Rachel cries out softly, her body spasming beneath Quinn's, and Quinn holds Rachel close as she falls apart in her arms.

Quinn draws back, gazing down at Rachel as her breathing slowly begins to even out. Small hands thread through her hair and pull Quinn down into a deep, sensuous kiss that she can feel all the way down to her core. Her hips buck lightly against Rachel, and she shivers as fingernails lightly scratch their way down her back.

"Your turn," Rachel says, breaking their kiss with an impish smile, her hands moving to the zipper on the back of Quinn's skirt.

Quinn helps her remove it, stripping herself until she's in nothing but her shirt. She hovers over Rachel on her hands and knees—her penis standing at attention, hard and aching for release. Rachel's hand fists around Quinn's length then, pumping her slowly, and Quinn moans softly at the sensation, her eyelids fluttering closed.

"I want to try something," Rachel says after a few moments, slowing her strokes.

"What?" Quinn asks, opening her eyes and gazing down into the darkened eyes of her girlfriend.

"I want to go down on you."

Quinn groans and her penis twitches in Rachel's hand. "Are you sure?" she asks, wondering if she's dreaming.

Rachel bites her lower lip and nods. "I need you to get on your back first. And take off your shirt."

Not needing to be told twice, Quinn quickly removes her shirt and tosses it in the pile of clothes next to the bed. Excitement and arousal thrum through her veins as she settles down on the bed, using the pillows to prop her upper body up.

Rachel nudges Quinn's legs apart, and Quinn watches intently as she crawls along the bed and settles between her legs.

It's then that she realizes that she's completely bare and Rachel is still fully clothed, and it sends another pulse of pleasure through her. There's absolutely no one else in the world that she would let herself be exposed to like this, but with Rachel, she feels comfortable, safe, and, most of all, desired.

Especially with the way Rachel is looking at her body—her eyes hungry—and Quinn shivers in anticipation. Rachel's hand wraps around her erect shaft as she leans in—her warm breath washing over Quinn's length—and then Rachel pokes her tongue out, taking an experimental swipe of the head of Quinn's penis.

A strangled moan escapes Quinn's lips at the feeling, and her hands grab onto the sheets beneath her. Rachel looks up at her, meeting Quinn's eyes with her own, as she wraps her lips around the entire head, taking it into her mouth.

Rachel's tongue swirls around the tip as she suckles on it, and Quinn's hands fist into the sheets as she tries not to thrust into Rachel's mouth, thinking her girlfriend probably wouldn't appreciate it. But God, does this feel incredible.

Quinn watches as Rachel slowly lowers her mouth, taking more of her in as she releases her grip on her shaft. Her fingertips brush against Quinn's small sac, and, _oh_. She can't stop her hips from bucking up at that.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Quinn apologizes, pressing her hips back against the bed, trying to keep them still.

Rachel pulls back a little, removing her mouth from Quinn's length. "It's okay, Quinn." Her lips quirk up mischievously then, and Quinn wonders what she's thinking.

Before she can even think to ask, Rachel's warm, wet mouth is on her once more. She lets out another moan at the feeling of Rachel's tongue working against her as her mouth sinks a little lower. And then Rachel lowers her mouth until her nose is brushing against light brown curls, causing Quinn's mouth to fall open in pleasure.

She can feel her head pressing against the back of Rachel's throat as Rachel's tongue works along the underside of her shaft, sending ripples of pleasure through her entire body. The sensations caused by Rachel's mouth combined with the sight of Rachel taking all of her in is driving Quinn to new heights of pleasure, and she doesn't know how much longer she'll last.

Rachel's head starts bobbing up and down then, while her fingers continue to play with the sensitive skin of Quinn's sac, and the combination has Quinn going into sensory overload—her entire body alight with pleasure.

"Rach," she breathes, feeling the tell-tale tightening in her groin. "Rachel, I'm so close. I'm gonna-"

Rachel's hand reaches up to wrap around her shaft as her warm mouth releases Quinn with a soft pop. She strokes her length, and Quinn's hips jerk as her orgasm rips through her, her cum landing on her belly.

As Quinn's breathing gradually slows, Rachel leans down and tentatively licks some of the sticky, white fluid off Quinn's stomach, making her half-hard penis twitch and her stomach clench. "It's not bad," she murmurs, looking up to meet Quinn's gaze. "Maybe next time I'll try swallowing."

Quinn lets out a strangled whimper at the thought. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

Rachel smiles, mirth dancing in her eyes. "So was that good?"

"Rachel… that was incredible," Quinn says, feeling her heart swell with affection as she reaches for her. "Come here."

Rachel shifts up on the bed and settles beside her, and Quinn turns her head, capturing plump lips with her own. She flicks her tongue against Rachel's lips, seeking entrance, and Rachel parts her mouth, allowing Quinn to deepen their kiss. There's a salty flavor on Rachel's tongue that Quinn's never tasted before, and it's then that she realizes that it's her own cum that she's tasting. The sheer intimacy of it all makes warmth blossom in her chest, and she draws Rachel closer, kissing her as deeply as she can.

"I love you," she says upon breaking apart, gazing intently into Rachel's eyes. "Thank you for that."

"I love you too," Rachel replies with a soft smile. "And I'm glad you liked it. I like making you feel good."

Quinn feels herself fall even more in love with Rachel as she kisses her again.

* * *

Even though it's early May, it's unseasonably hot and humid in New York City, but Quinn finds she doesn't mind too much. It's hard to be irritated with the weather when she can walk down the street hand-in-hand with her girlfriend and not have to worry about how other people will react. No one bats an eye, and a few people even smile at them.

It makes Quinn feel more at home here than she ever has in Lima.

She and Rachel are currently sitting in a subway car heading downtown toward Greenwich Village, ready to explore a new neighborhood—Columbus Circle and Times Square already under their belts.

"Here we are," Rachel announces as they walk up the steps of the N/R 8th Street-NYU Station, stepping foot onto Broadway. Rachel's eyes are alight with excitement as they walk further down the sidewalk. "New York University. That building right there is Tisch School of the Arts," Rachel tells her, pointing at a large building across the street as she bounces on her feet a little. "My future school. I can't wait until I can officially call this place home."

Quinn smiles at Rachel's enthusiasm, but there's an undercurrent of sadness in her heart. She knows she needs to start planning for life after high school, but the thought is incredibly daunting. And then there's the fact that she'll undoubtedly be apart from Rachel.

"Have you given any thought to where you might want to go after we graduate?" Rachel asks as they cross the street.

"I don't know. My grades are good enough that I could probably get a scholarship somewhere. But it has to be someplace I can afford to live, which, unfortunately, isn't here," Quinn says with a sigh as she looks up at the tall buildings that make up the university's campus.

"Quinn, you know my dads will help you," Rachel says, squeezing Quinn's hand gently. Before Quinn can open her mouth to argue, Rachel presses on. "And think about it. If we both end up here in New York for school, we can share an apartment. That would cut down on expenses, especially since they'd be paying for my room anyway."

"We'll see," Quinn says non-committally, her eyes landing on a small food cart at the edge of what she thinks is Washington Square Park. "I could use a drink," she says, trying not to get her hopes up over Rachel's suggestion.

She would love to be able to go to school in New York City and have a little place with Rachel, but she knows there's a good chance that _won't_ happen. And while Rachel's dads have been amazing over the last ten months, Quinn wouldn't feel right having them pay for expenses after she turns eighteen and the child support payments stop coming. It's why she's been trying to save as much money as she can and praying that she can get a full-ride scholarship somewhere.

"You're thinking too hard," Rachel says after they pay for their waters, leading Quinn over to a bench near the fountain.

Quinn mentally shakes her head and takes a swig of water. Her fingers play with Rachel's for a moment as she gathers her thoughts. "I would love for this to be our life one day—taking walks through this park, getting lunch at a little café, shopping in SoHo, and going home to our shoebox apartment," she explains wistfully, Rachel's face growing more smitten with every word. "I just… I don't know if it's in the cards for me to end up here for school."

"If being here is what you really want, you shouldn't settle for something else," Rachel says, resting her head against Quinn's shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Quinn. We always do."

Quinn presses her nose against the top of Rachel's head and breathes her in, deciding that she'll do whatever it takes to make this work.

* * *

Sheets-n-Things isn't the greatest job in the world, but Quinn's grateful for it all the same. She's managed to save a few thousand dollars in the nine months she's been working here, and now that summer has officially started, she'll be working even more hours, which means more money.

Today is a particularly busy one—a ton of new inventory has to be put on the shelves—but Quinn is glad for it. It keeps her busy and, more importantly, able to avoid thinking about things.

Specifically, what happened exactly a year ago today.

But eventually, she has to clock out and head home—to the Berry household, not the Fabray household—and everything about that fact makes it harder to keep the memories at bay.

Quinn tries to take her time driving back to Rachel's house, especially since she's using the car that Rachel's dads have let her drive since she got her license, but she's anxious to get there.

Unfortunately, the house is empty when she arrives, and Quinn lets out a frustrated sigh, wishing that Rachel was back from her afternoon ballet lesson. She needs to keep herself distracted.

Quinn rubs her palms over her face, trying to push away the thoughts that are threatening to rise up before trudging up the stairs to her bedroom. She pushes the door open and pulls her brown smock over her head, tossing it in the small hamper in the corner of her room, before opening her closet and looking for something to change into.

Her fingers linger on the yellow and white sundress she wore when she got kicked out of her house, and before she can even think to try and stop it, the pain from that day comes rushing back in full force.

The feeling of rejection and abandonment is overwhelming, and she staggers over to her bed, sinking down on it and burying her head in her hands. Tears sting her eyes, and she angrily wipes them away. She doesn't want to cry over this. She's wasted too many tears on her family, especially because she's sure they've never shed a tear over her.

She knows they were glad to be rid of her. After all, they never once made an effort to contact her in the last year—her things were left in black trash bags on Rachel's front porch a few days after she'd left. All that's left now is the court-ordered child support payments and health insurance coverage—the only consequence her parents faced after being charged with child abandonment.

She doesn't regret standing up for herself, but it doesn't stop the hurt that lingers from their rejection. She couldn't help that she was born this way or who she fell in love with, but they didn't care. _They never cared_ , she thinks bitterly.

Rachel's fathers, on the other hand, have shown her nothing but care. After she was kicked out, they didn't hesitate for a second, taking Quinn into their home and making her feel more welcome than she ever did with her own family. And when she reluctantly opened up to them about her condition—because she needed a way to get to her doctor's appointments—they didn't look at her any differently.

Unlike her own father, who last looked upon her with nothing but disgust in his eyes. The memory has her clenching her fists as she lets out a shuddering breath.

"Quinn?" is softly called out from the doorway.

She doesn't reply. Her upper body shakes from the sobs she's unsuccessfully trying to hold in.

Light footsteps sound behind her, and then, the bed dips. Seconds later, Rachel's warm body is pressed against her back, and a strong arm wraps around her. Quinn seeks out Rachel's hand and tangles their fingers together as she draws Rachel into herself, trying to soak in the comfort her girlfriend is giving her.

A soft kiss is pressed to her shoulder. "What's wrong?" Rachel murmurs.

Quinn swallows, unable to answer as she continues to cry, but she finds it somewhat cathartic.

Rachel holds her tighter. "It's been one year," she realizes quietly. "Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry."

After a few minutes, her tears finally subside. "It's so stupid," Quinn finally sniffs. "I don't even miss them. Not really. But even after all this time, it still hurts knowing that I'll never be good enough for them."

"It's their loss," Rachel says softly but resolutely. "You're perfect, inside and out. I love you more than anything in the world, even more than singing on stage. Being with you is better than receiving all the applause in the world. That's how wonderful you are."

Quinn smiles tearfully and turns in Rachel's arms, looking into warm, brown eyes. "How did I get so lucky?"

"Just by being you," Rachel says with a gentle smile, before softly singing, "'cause you're amazing just the way you are."

Quinn ducks her head bashfully, but her smile grows—the ache in her heart fading with every word Rachel sings.

* * *

"I feel like I need a change," Quinn says, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail as she examines herself in Kurt's mirror.

"Maybe you should try dying your hair," Tina suggests from her seat on the bed. "Pink would actually look really good on you."

"Are you crazy?" Kurt interjects before turning his gaze toward Quinn. "No way you should ruin your hair with those chemicals." His eyes narrow as he taps his chin thoughtfully. "No, I have a better idea," he says, his face breaking out into an excited smile. "You're going to look amazing, Quinn."

Kurt takes her to his hairstylist, Giovanni, who immediately agrees with Kurt's idea, and Quinn lets him work his magic.

As her hair falls away, Quinn feels strangely liberated. She thinks of all the things she's been trying to let go of—the memories of her family that she doesn't need weighing down on her, because their approval doesn't matter anymore—and imagines them being cut away from her along with her hair.

"All done," Giovanni announces with a proud smile as he finishes running his fingers through her hair. "You look stunning."

Quinn gazes at herself in the mirror, taking in the finished product. She rubs her palm against the back of her neck, her fingers brushing against the edges of newly cut hair. Her lips curve up into a smile. She looks _good_.

Kurt and Tina are in instant agreement, and Quinn can't help but enjoy their praise. It's always nice to hear that she looks good, and, besides from Rachel, she doesn't really get compliments all that often.

Quinn finds Rachel in the kitchen making a snack when she comes home. "Hey, you," Quinn says playfully from the doorway, getting Rachel's attention.

Rachel's eyes widen in surprise as she takes in Quinn's new haircut.

"What do you think?" Quinn asks, suddenly a little nervous that maybe Rachel isn't going to like it.

Rachel cocks her head to the side and bites her lower lip contemplatively. "I like it." She steps forward, running her fingers through Quinn's shortened locks. "It's different, but I _really_ like it. It suits you."

"I'm glad you think so," Quinn says, feeling a measure of relief. "I like it too. I feel more like me, if that makes sense."

Rachel smiles. "It makes perfect sense."

* * *

The best part about summer is spending her days with her friends in the Berrys' backyard—swimming.

Or, more accurately, splashing around in the pool in her bathing suit—a bikini top and a pair of board shorts that easily does the job of concealing her condition. She's still learning how to actually swim. Kurt's boyfriend, Sam Evans, has been teaching her how, and she's thankful for his patience.

Currently, Rachel is sitting on her shoulders while Sam stands across from them with Kurt on his.

"You're going down, Hummel," Rachel taunts.

"Not a chance, Rachel," Kurt smirks as Sam takes a step forward, an amused smile playing at his lips, which Quinn knows she's matching. Their significant others are both ridiculously competitive. Then again, so are she and Sam.

The chicken fight lasts less than a minute and results in both Kurt and Rachel screaming and falling backwards into the pool, dragging Sam and Quinn in with them. Quinn comes up from the water, smiling and feeling almost giddy as her eyes land on Rachel, who smiles at her with a knowing look in her eye.

She wades over to her girlfriend and leans down, brushing her nose against Rachel's. "What are you thinking about?"

"About how happy I am that I can ogle you in a bikini. Your abs are to die for," she replies, splaying her fingers against Quinn's stomach.

Quinn bites her lower lip as her skin tingles from Rachel's touch, but she manages to raise an eyebrow. "Seriously, Rach."

"I'm deadly serious," she replies before lowering her hands onto Quinn's hips. "But also, I'm just really happy that you're comfortable enough with your body to be out here like this. Last summer, I couldn't get you in the pool unless it was just the two of us. I love seeing you enjoy yourself and let go like this."

Quinn wraps her arms around Rachel, holding her close, the feeling of familiar warmth spreading in her chest.

"Enough canoodling, love birds!" Mercedes voice playfully cuts in, and Quinn looks up to see her stepping into the backyard with her boyfriend, Anthony Rashad, along with Tina and Artie Abrams. Across the pool, she sees Kurt and Sam in a position not too dissimilar from the one she's in with Rachel.

Quinn smiles as she looks around the backyard at all her friends, hugging Rachel a little tighter. _Yeah, this is definitely the best part about summer._

* * *

A hot and sticky August night finds Quinn and Rachel sprawled out side-by-side on a blanket in the backyard—the sounds of a Jason Mraz album playing softly in the background as they stare up at the stars, their fingers tangled together.

As the final notes of "I'm Yours" finish playing, Rachel shifts beside Quinn and onto her side. "I've been thinking about something lately," Rachel begins, and Quinn turns her head, gazing questioningly at her. "I want to take the next step in our relationship."

"Yeah?" Quinn replies, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect. She rolls onto her side and wraps her arm around Rachel, drawing her in.

Rachel smiles, her eyes darkening slightly. "Yeah. Honestly, I think about it every time we're intimate in some way," she confesses. "I love you so much, Quinn, and… it leaves me speechless sometimes. Like there isn't a song in the world that could convey what I feel, and I can only show you."

"I feel the same way," Quinn replies. "I know I'm not always good at expressing myself… especially not with words… but I hope you know just how much I love you." She pauses, resting her forehead against Rachel's. "And as for taking the next step… I'm ready," she says, gazing intently into warm, brown eyes. "I want to make love to you, Rachel."

She caps off her declaration with a slow, sensuous kiss, pouring her love into every movement of her mouth. Her hand slides down to Rachel's legs, caressing the smooth skin of her thigh. Rachel's hand travels up between their bodies, squeezing Quinn's right breast through her shirt, causing her to gasp softly.

Rachel takes advantage and slides her tongue easily into Quinn's mouth. Their tongues continue to move against each other as their legs tangle together. Her erection strains against her shorts and needing some kind of relief, Quinn grabs onto Rachel's backside, pulling her hips flush against her own.

Rachel moans, and Quinn smiles, sliding her fingers down between Rachel's legs and slipping them beneath her tiny, black shorts. She can feel how turned on Rachel is right now—her underwear is soaked through. She pushes herself further against Rachel as she slips her fingers beneath damp cotton, her fingertips dipping into wet heat.

The sliding glass door opens then, interrupting the moment. "Time to pack it in, girls!" Leroy calls outside.

Quinn groans slightly as she removes her hand from Rachel's underwear. She swears Rachel's dads have radar or something.

"Coming, Daddy!" Rachel replies, extracting herself from Quinn.

"Not tonight, we're not," Quinn grumbles under her breath.

"Quinn!" Rachel hisses, smacking her arm playfully.

She chuckles a little. "What? It's true."

Rachel rolls her eyes, but she smiles. "We're going to plan this out and do this when the time is right. That obviously isn't right now. Or anytime when my fathers are home for that matter."

Quinn knows she's right. Their first time should be without risk of interruption. But most of all, their first time should be special, and she's going to make sure that she makes it so for Rachel.

* * *

"I got us something," Rachel says, handing Quinn a few small, red packets before plopping down on Quinn's bed and sitting across from her.

"What's this?" Quinn asks, furrowing her brow as she reads the words "Glyde Slimfit Lubricated Condom."

"I know you can't get me pregnant or anything," she explains. "But I wanted to make sure we had some condoms on hand in case you felt it was something you wanted to use when we finally have sex. And the great thing about this particular brand is that they're vegan!" she finishes with a pleased smile, and Quinn can't help but smile at her girlfriend's antics even as she flushes a bit.

She places the condoms next to her on the bed and shakes her head. "I don't think we'll be needing these. You're the only one I've ever been with, and you're the only one I ever want to be with," Quinn says, gazing intently at Rachel. "When we do this, I want to be able to feel all of you."

* * *

Their first time finally happens in late September.

For the first time since Quinn started living with Rachel, they have the house all to themselves. Rachel's dads won a trip for an LGBT cruise, and while they were at first extremely reluctant to leave Quinn and Rachel alone, after a lot of coaxing from Rachel, they eventually relented.

Quinn shuffles Rachel out the door in the early afternoon on Saturday, sending her off with Kurt to get ready for tonight. She wants everything to be absolutely perfect for Rachel—to make this a night neither of them will ever forget.

She spends the late afternoon preparing dinner for Rachel—making sure to include some of her favorite foods. She's excited and a little nervous for tonight, which she thinks is a little strange considering they've been together for two and a half years, but cooking gives her something to focus on.

Once everything is finished, Quinn pops it into the fridge and then runs upstairs to get ready. She glances at the clock on her nightstand and sees that she has a little over an hour until Rachel will be arriving back home.

She strips down and hops into the shower, feeling herself growing more nervous by the second. As she rinses the shampoo from her hair, Quinn tries taking long breaths to calm herself down. _It's just Rachel,_ she tells herself. _There's no need to be nervous._

Quinn had picked out her outfit for tonight weeks ago. After a lot of hemming and hawing, she finally decided on a black, sleeveless dress, and as she slips into it now, she knows she made the right choice. It makes her feel a little sexy while still looking classy.

She's still looking herself over in the mirror, making sure her hair and makeup are perfect when the doorbell rings, causing a fresh wave of nerves and excitement to roll over her.

Quinn runs down the stairs before pausing to smooth down the front of her dress. She lets out a steadying breath and opens the front door.

"Hi," she says a little breathlessly, taking in the sight of Rachel standing on the front porch in a light pink dress, and Quinn is awestruck by just how beautiful she is.

"Hi," Rachel says, biting her lower lip and smiling adorably as she hands Quinn a bouquet of white flowers. "These are for you."

"Thank you," Quinn replies with a soft smile as she takes them from Rachel, wondering if it's possible to fall even more in love with her.

"They're gardenias," she explains as Quinn brings them closer to her face to breathe in their sweet scent.

"They're beautiful," she says, her smile growing wider as she presses a soft, lingering kiss to Rachel's lips. "Almost as beautiful as you," she says once they break apart.

Rachel smiles bashfully at her and interlaces her fingers with Quinn. Pulling Rachel lightly by the hand, Quinn leads her into the house and to the dining room, only letting go of her hand to pull out her chair. Rachel looks positively smitten, and it helps settle Quinn's nerves.

"I'm going to put the flowers in some water and get the first course," Quinn tells her as she lights the candles on the table. "Feel free to put on some music if you want," she adds, placing the iPod dock remote next to Rachel, fingertips brushing against the back of her hand.

Rachel's hand curls around hers then, and Quinn shifts her gaze to meet Rachel's. "Thank you for doing all this tonight," Rachel says.

Quinn shakes her head as her lips quirk up into a half smile. "Don't thank me yet. You might end up hating everything I made."

"I highly doubt that," Rachel disagrees. "Your food is always delicious."

As often seems to be the case, Rachel is right. To Quinn's relief, dinner is a success. Rachel loves the pumpkin soup she made to start their meal, and the mushroom and asparagus risotto actually has Rachel humming in pleasure as she eats it. For desert, Quinn has prepared chocolate covered strawberries, which are Rachel's absolute favorite, so Quinn knows she's good on that front.

Conversation is light and easy, just like it always is, but as the meal draws closer to its end, Quinn begins to feel her nerves to creep back in. As Rachel finishes off the last of the strawberries, Quinn reaches across the table and tangles her fingers with Rachel's to steady herself. There are things she needs to tell Rachel before things go any further tonight.

"The last three years of my life have been… tumultuous, to say the least," she begins, gazing into compassionate brown eyes. "But throughout it all, you've been my constant. I don't even want to imagine what my life would be like without you, and I can only hope that I bring you even a fraction of the happiness you've brought me."

Rachel's enamored smile grows as Quinn attempts to explain just how much she loves her. "That makes two of us," Rachel says, rubbing her thumb gently back and forth across the back of Quinn's hand. "I think I fell a little in love with you the first time I laid eyes on you, and I feel like I've been falling ever since."

Quinn shakes her head in awed disbelief. "Sometimes I can't believe that you're mine."

Rachel gets up from her seat then, walking over to stand beside Quinn. "Then let me show you," she says, locking her eyes on Quinn and laying herself completely bare through her gaze. Quinn's breath catches in her throat as she feels the air around them shift, feeling a subtle rush of excitement at the promise of what's to come as Rachel pulls her to her feet.

They walk up the stairs together hand-in-hand and head into Rachel's bedroom. Before they even make it onto the bed, Quinn has Rachel's head between her hands, drawing her in for a slow, sensuous kiss that immediately has her stirring below the waist. She slants her mouth to the side, and Rachel instinctively parts her lips, allowing Quinn to deepen their kiss. She can taste hints of chocolate on her tongue.

Rachel's hands wander to Quinn's back, her nimble fingers easily finding the zipper of Quinn's dress. Rachel breaks off their kiss and instantly attaches her mouth to Quinn's neck as she slowly lowers the zipper, exposing Quinn's back to the cool air of Rachel's bedroom. Quinn's hands slide down to Rachel's waist, her eyes fluttering closed as Rachel's mouth continues to work against her neck.

The straps of her dress slide down her arms, and Rachel's tongue laves against Quinn's collarbone causing her arousal to grow. Soon her dress is pooled around her ankles, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.

"As much as I liked that dress on you, I like it much better off you," Rachel says as she gazes at Quinn's body with lust-filled eyes.

Quinn swallows thickly at Rachel's appreciation of her body, still so amazed by how much Rachel desires her— _all_ of her.

Spurred on by that fact, Quinn latches her mouth on Rachel's pulse point, nipping lightly before suckling at the skin. Her slender fingers seek out the zipper on Rachel's dress, needing to see and feel her. As she slips the dress from Rachel's body, her mouth eagerly moves to explore the newly exposed skin of Rachel's shoulders.

Rachel's hands wander up and down her back, her nails occasionally scratching at her skin, before finally settling on her backside and squeezing, sending a surge of arousal through Quinn. Her lips falter against Rachel's skin as Rachel subtly grinds her lower abs against her clothed erection, causing her to let out a low moan.

They wind up atop the bed, side-by-side, hands drawing away the remaining barriers between them. Rachel leans down and captures one of Quinn's nipples in her mouth as her hand snakes down and fists around Quinn's hard shaft, swiping her thumb against the head and causing Quinn's hips to jerk. Quinn always finds it difficult to focus on anything when Rachel is touching her like this, but she's determined to show her girlfriend just how much she loves her.

She palms the curve of Rachel's hip before sliding her hand down between Rachel's legs. She smiles when she feels just how wet Rachel is, and when her slender fingers slide through her folds, Rachel moans against Quinn's breast.

Rachel's lips trail up Quinn's chest, nipping lightly at her collarbone and her neck, before locking them onto Quinn's once more.

Quinn pushes two fingers inside Rachel with ease, slowly pumping them in and out, while Rachel continues to slowly stroke Quinn's length. Eventually their kiss breaks, their hips thrusting into each other's hands as they pant against each other's mouths, gazing into each other's eyes—the fire between them steadily building.

"Quinn," Rachel whimpers, a neediness to her tone that Quinn hasn't heard before. "I need you."

Her words and the look in Rachel's eyes send a throb of pleasure through her core and a desire to please Rachel in every way she can. She rolls them over and settles on top of Rachel, their naked bodies pressing together deliciously and sending a feeling of desire and contentment through Quinn. Her erection brushes against the inside of Rachel's thighs, and she can feel the heat radiating from Rachel's center—so close to where she wants to touch most.

It's then that Quinn hesitates. "I've heard that… that it hurts the first time," she says, searching Rachel's eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, Rachel."

"You won't," she insists, cupping Quinn's cheek and lightly running her thumb back and forth. "And even if it's a little uncomfortable at first, it fades and becomes pleasurable. At least, that's what I've read."

Quinn worries her lower lip with her teeth, still uncertain.

"I want you, Quinn," Rachel says, lacing her fingers through blonde hair as she pulls her head down for a kiss. Rachel's hips slowly begin to rock, her clit bumping up against the head of Quinn's penis, eliciting a soft gasp. "I need to be closer to you. Please."

That word combined with Rachel's body pressing against her is Quinn's undoing, and she's powerless to do anything but what Rachel asks.

She reaches down with one hand, wrapping it around her shaft and guiding herself toward Rachel's entrance. She presses the tip of her penis against Rachel's wet folds, enjoying the feeling of her girlfriend's heat against her sensitive head. Hazel eyes travel up the length of Rachel's body before capturing brown eyes—dark with desire and shining with love.

Quinn lets go of her penis and wraps her arms around Rachel, grabbing onto her shoulders as she gently begins to push herself inside Rachel, never taking her eyes off Rachel's face. Quinn moans softly at the feeling of her length being enveloped by tight, wet heat. But her pleasure is muted when she sees Rachel's face screw up a little in pain—her breath hitching as she tenses beneath Quinn.

She stills her hips as guilt begins to creep in. "Are you okay?" she asks worriedly.

Rachel lets out a steadying breath and nods. "Yeah. Can you just… stay like this for a moment?"

"Whatever you need, Rachel," Quinn says softly, leaning down and pressing a soothing kiss to her lips. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," Rachel assures her, wrapping her arms around Quinn's back. "It's a good kind of hurt—knowing that you're finally inside me."

Quinn feels herself grow impossibly harder at those words, and hearing them while actually being _inside_ Rachel makes love and warmth blossom in her chest. "God, I love you so much," she breathes reverently, brushing her nose against Rachel's and gazing into her eyes.

"I love you too," Rachel replies just as reverently, looking at Quinn with nothing but adoration.

They stay together like that, just breathing each other in, keenly aware of how connected they are.

"I think I'm ready now," Rachel says softly after a few moments.

"Okay," Quinn nods, drawing her hips back slowly, hyperaware of the sensation of moving through tight heat, before sliding back in. Her mouth falls open in pleasure, and Rachel lets out a soft moan. "Is this okay?" she asks as she continues to carefully move in and out of Rachel.

Rachel licks her lips and nods. "More than okay," she says, tightening her hold around Quinn's back, and Quinn sinks into her embrace as her movements below her waist grow more confident.

The feeling of moving against Rachel like this—their naked bodies sliding against each other, being inside her—there's nothing else like it. "You feel so good, Rachel," Quinn moans, slowly picking up the pace of her thrusts.

Rachel gasps, burying her face in Quinn's neck. Her breathing comes out in soft pants that match every thrust of Quinn's hips, and it spurs Quinn on. She has never felt more alive or connected to Rachel, and her entire body tingles with pleasure.

The movement of her hips grows more erratic as she feels herself building toward her climax. She hopes Rachel is close too—she would love nothing more than to come together while so intimately connected.

"Rachel," Quinn gasps out, tightening her hold on her girlfriend. Her hips jerk, her body stiffens, and her mouth falls open in a silent cry as she feels a bolt of white-hot pleasure rip through her—a burst of warm wetness shooting out and filling Rachel up.

"Oh, God," Rachel moans, and Quinn can feel her walls clamping down on her penis. "Quinn," she cries softly as her body arches up into Quinn, trembling as she comes with a shuddering breath.

Quinn lifts her head and feels her heart swell with love as she gazes down at Rachel. There are tears of happiness in their eyes, and Quinn rests her forehead against Rachel's, savoring the feeling of being with her in the afterglow.

"I love you," Rachel says with a tearful smile, sniffling a little as she hugs Quinn.

"I love you too," she replies before leaning in and capturing Rachel's lips in a long, loving kiss.

Quinn holds Rachel close—feeling sated, warm, content, and, most of all, loved. She remembers a time when she had been convinced that she would never have this—that she was too defective and destined to be forever alone—but Rachel's love and acceptance has changed all of that. Quinn will never be like every other girl, but it doesn't matter quite so much anymore because here, in Rachel's arms, she knows she has found a home.

* * *

_End_


End file.
